Hauntings
by maria villa
Summary: Chris' demons come back to haunt him but at what price?


Disclaimer: I do not own the Magnificent Seven no matter how much I wish I did. They are owned by MGM, CBS, and Trilogy. I don't own the Highlander: The Series. Rysher Entertainment and Davis/Panzer Productions own them. Any original characters belong to me.

Notes: Magnificent Seven/Highlander Crossover. This is the second installment in the series. The usual characters of Highlander: The Series are not in the story line, yet. For the M7, this takes in account all of the episodes aired up to _The Trial_ except Inez doesn't exist in my world. Also, Ron Perlman, a.k.a. Josiah Sanchez, played an Immortal on Highlander: The Series. In my story, he is already an Immortal, disregarding any time he got shot.

Eric LaContè was sitting in the saloon at Clear Creek contemplating the drink before him. He was remembering long forgotten times, his life before the Civil War that destroyed everything he held precious and dear. Eric was a relatively new Immortal, a plantation owner before his first death. He was very successful and well liked by family and friends. Unlike other plantation owners, he treated his slaves well and paid them for their work. So, when the politicians of the North threatened his lively hood, he provided food and shelter for Southern soldiers seeking assistance. But in one year, everything changed.

General Sherman's army began their March to the Sea, destroying crops and homes. And in the way, was LaContè's plantation. He remembered that day well. He remembered in vain as he tried to smother the fires that were consuming the crop. He remembered pleading with the young man, asking him not to destroy his life. He remembered when the bullet tore through his flesh when he tried to warn his family of the danger. He remembered looking up into the face of the young man that shot him and etched his face and name forever in his mind. 

His family hearing that he was dead packed their bags and fled for safety. He never saw them again. General Sherman's army destroyed his home, the fields, and his life. But he didn't blame them. He blamed that young man; to Eric, he was the one that destroyed all the things he had ever known. 

So he decided he would do the same to the man as it was done to him. He waited nine years before he found his chance. Fowler did a good job; he reveled in the feeling of pleasure of just thinking how Chris Larabee reacted to his burnt home and the death of his wife and son. Now, three years later, he would finish what he started. LaContè had heard of the Magnificent Seven and was pleasurably surprised to hear Chris Larabee was there. He was also surprised to hear an old friend of his was residing in the town of Four Corners, but he didn't realize he was one of the lawmen.

He picked up his glass and gulped the contents down. LaContè held the shot glass, the light filtering through causing it to gleam in the late afternoon sun.

"Soon Chris Larabee," he said quietly in the air, "everything will come full circle."

With the Hunter incident behind all the seven men, the town had returned to more pleasurable times. The night was spent as usual trading jokes and playing poker. The rest of the six men were happy to learn that Melissa would be staying in town permanently and Buck took the opportunity to try to swoon Melissa off her feet. She gave him and enigmatic smile but nothing else. Still, Buck persisted and when Melissa finally had enough of his hampering, showed him a lesson or two. Everyone had a good laugh at seeing the absolute shock on Buck's face when Melissa showed him the same move as she had shown Vin earlier. 

Chris had bid the others good night and headed off to bed. As he was walking to his room at the boarding house, Chris looked up the stars above. Over the last three years, he rarely looked up into the night. He remembered all too well those many nights when he and Sarah would look up into those stars and held all of their hopes and dreams in them. He smiled at the memory of the day when they adopted Adam; it was one of the happiest days of his life. Then he remembered that fateful day three years ago. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the pain, but as Melissa had said earlier _'It never goes away_.' 

He trudged up the stairs and managed to get dressed for bed. His mind began to wander, to earlier times, the times when he first met Buck. But that was touching on a subject he even didn't want to think about. It brought back a painful memory, but he learned a hard lesson that he would never forget. 

Georgia, 1864

Twenty-two years old Ensign Chris Larabee had recently joined the northern army a couple of months ago. He was relaxing in the Mess cleaning his gun, as he had been taught, while a loud boisterous voice was busy talking up a storm with the rest of the men. When his friend began to tell the others their 'late night mission' during training camp, he interrupted.

"Now Buck, don't you think I should tell the story since I'm the one 'shot the general'?"

The others looked toward Chris with surprise. 

"Wait," said Thomas incredulously, "you shot a general and your breathin'?"

"Yeah Chris," Buck added with a leery grin, "why don't you explain to these guys what happened?" 

Chris put his gun down on the table and leaned back in his chair. "Well it began when Buck's little brother sent him a gift, a couple of pop-guns…"

"Pop-guns? Aw, how sweet! Did little Bucky go shoot some tin cans?" Thomas teased.

"Went and shot some people's behinds," Buck sarcastically.

"Anyways," Chris continued, "both of us were on patrol that night, bored to death, so we decided to liven' it up a little and played a game of 'Shoot The Enemy."

"So, I'm sneakin' around tryin' to get the jump on him," Buck interrupted.

"Do you mind?" Chris exclaimed and gave his friend a hearty slap causing Buck to tip over. Everyone let out a laugh at their friend's expense. "So, here I am," Chris continued, "carefully makin' my way around a tent when I heard footsteps. I assumed it was Buck, so I held back in the shadows. When the figure came around the corner I let it rip." Chris laughed at himself at the memory. True it wasn't funny at the time when he realized who he 'shot.'

"Who did ya shoot?" someone asked eagerly.

"Only General Grant," Chris replied smoothly.

Everyone who was listening practically gagged in surprise. Then they were laughing so hard; the rest of the men in the Mess wondered what the hell they laughing about.

When Thomas regained his composure, he had to ask, "What next?"  


Good thing it was dark cuz' I didn't think he recognized me. So I ran like hell and returned to patrol. Found Buck and he asked me why I looked as pale as a ghost."

"And you didn't get in trouble the next day?"

"All I figure, the General must of found it damned funny, cuz' he never mentioned about it."

"Yeah, it saved your sorry hide from some extra duty," Buck chimed in.

"Well your hide wasn't saved when the commander caught you sneaking in that girl into the barracks," Chris countered.

"Hey!" Buck yelled and jabbed his friend in the side as the others laughed, "So what if I can't help it when that girl followed me?"

Chris shook his head good-naturally. Ever since he met Buck Wilmington back in the recruitment office, he had been nothin' but trouble. With the ladies at least. 

Thirty minutes later, break was over and the group went their separate ways to attend to their chores. A lot had happened the least week or so as the company was preparing to attack. Chris and Buck were sitting on a couple of crates, trying to get stretch their little free time a little bit longer. Chris lit up a cheroot and lazily blew the smoke into the warm air.

"Been a mighty interestin' couple of months, ain't it?" Buck said, interrupting the stillness.

"And the higher ups sayin' it will only get better," Chris replied. He had been eager to see some action. He was so preoccupied with the romantic idea of being a soldier; Chris Larabee never stopped to think about the horror of war, the death, and the destruction. He had learned how to use a gun from his father, and many proclaimed he had the fastest draw they've ever seen. Of course those were against inanimate objects, so Chris had never drawn against an opponent, let alone kill anyone. He would learn some hard lessons throughout the war, and remember things best forgotten.

Georgia, next day

Eric LaContè was galloping hard in the direction of his fields. Word reached him that a small group of twenty soldiers had begun to burn the outer fringes of his land and some of his hired help were trying to defend the fields but was unsuccessful. Off to the side he saw soldier grappling with one of his workers, and the soldier was winning. 

He immediately dismounted his horse and before the soldier knew what was happening, Eric had tackled the soldier to the ground. For a moment they were face to face, looking at each other with a fierce determination in their eyes. Eric quickly glanced at the worker and yelled at him to get out of the area. The soldier took the opportunity to deliver a vicious upper cut to Eric's face causing his head to snap back then the soldier proceeded kicked him hard the gut.

They both got up quickly and LaContè attacked him for all it was worth. 

"Please," Eric pleaded, "You can't destroy this place, it's all I have!"

"Not my decision," the young soldier replied. "I have my orders, and those orders say destroy the enemy, which means you." Chris knew he was playing a dangerous game, trying to provoke the man, but damn, he joined the army for a reason and that was to see some action.

Eric responded as Chris hoped all Eric saw was red. Both of them fought for several minutes, each trading blows, and finding out they were evenly matched. Eric then found himself choking the life out of the young soldier when his conscience hit. Eric's eyes happen to wander to the soldier's chest and caught himself glancing at the name there. _C. Larabee _it read. All of a sudden the reality set in. He wasn't a cold-blooded killer. He didn't want to become like that. He loosened the grip on the soldier and happened to glance up and saw about five soldiers about hundred yards away heading for the both of them. Eric knew if he was captured then there was a good chance they would hang him as a traitor or worse yet think he was a spy and try to beat some information out of him.

So he did the only thing he could do; he ran like hell, hoping to reach his family in time to get them to safety.

Chris Larabee gasped for a breath of air and watched as his prisoner ran off. Without even thinking he withdrew his gun from his holster and shot the retreating man in the back.

All of a sudden, Chris felt like he was outside of his body, watching the events unfold from above. He saw the welt of blood growing on the shirt as the man turned around to look at him. He saw the absolute look of terror, of pain, of despair, etched in the man's face. He saw the man mouth one word and even though he couldn't hear, he could understand. 'Why?' As the body hit the floor, Chris was suddenly back in his own body, realizing what he had done. He had taken a life.

Buck Wilmington and the others had finally reached Chris who was still lying on the ground; shocked beyond belief at what he had done.

"You all right Chris?" Buck asked concerned and shook his friend. "Chris?"

"Yeah," Chris replied hoarsely, and got up and slowly walked over to the body. The man's eyes were still wide open, but the vibrancy long gone. His face was forever frozen, his mouth forming that silent question. Chris relived the scene over and over again. 'Why did I have to kill him? I could have shot him in the leg but no, it had to be for the heart. Who said this was easy?' Chris thought to himself. 

"Never again," he whispered into the air. Never would he shoot a man in the back. For if he did he knew he would see that man's face and would have to relive the horrific moment again. He knelt down by the body and closed the man's eyes.

Buck approached him from behind and laid a comforting hand on Chris' shoulder. 

"Never again."

"Hmmm, Chris?"

"Never again will I take a man's life by shooting him in the back. Never again," he mumbled and walked away.

Buck watched him go wishing he could do something to help. Chris' figure slowly faded from sight, the sight of burning crops, and the sight of dead bodies that littered the ground. The bodies of the workers who tried to defend their home. As he looked around the burning plantation, suddenly the war didn't seem to be all that glorious. 

The group quickly moved away to rejoin the others. They never witnessed the dead man's intake of breath.

Four Corners, Arizona 1876

"Never again," mumbled Chris in his sleep. Even after twelve years the dreams of that fateful afternoon still invaded his dreams. The face all those years ago had become distorted; the face morphed into faces of other men he had killed over the years. He kept his promise though, he never did shoot a man in the back, it was ingrained in him, and he would even let an outlaw gallop away if his back were toward him. Little did he know that face would come and haunt him again.

Early the next morning Melissa was heading toward the Clarion Office. She was heading over there because she figured that Mary would know if any property were for sale. The hotel was a nice place to stay at, but Melissa had a feeling she would be living in Four Corners for a number of years and the hotel wasn't exactly her idea of home.

One week later, Melissa was cleaning the small home that she had purchased. No one had lived in the house for over a year; the pervious owners had moved out because the town was a little too dangerous for their tastes. This was well before the time the seven men were hired to protect the town.

Melissa had sent for some of her belongings to be sent to Four Corners. Before she became a bounty hunter, she owned a good sized home in Denver. She had given ownership of the house to some friends of hers back in Denver, but many of her belongings were still kept in storage in her old house. When she bought the house in Four Corners one week ago, she immediately wired her friends in Denver that she would need some of her things, and it arrived by stage yesterday morning. Melissa had wanted the house clean and all the repairs finished before the all the stuff was brought in. 

"Ah choo, ah choo, ah choo!"   


"God bless you!" Josiah yelled from the porch where he was fixing a broken step.

Melissa, who was standing in the doorway, eyed Josiah warily. "If that were true then He would make all the dust disappear." She began to wrinkle her nose one more time. "Ah choo! Aw, hell I hate cleaning!"

"Cleanliness is next to godliness," Josiah kidded.

Melissa rolled her eyes in mock irritation. "Please Josiah, I really don't want to clean the mess you make after I teach you some manners."

Josiah grinned lopsidedly and returned to work. He had been helping Melissa all day in making some repairs to the house. After a year of disuse, some of the wood had rotten away, and he had been at it all day replacing the wood. Melissa was busy inside dusting the rooms, a chore she detested. 

After they were finished some of the other men helped Josiah and Melissa move the furniture inside her new home. It didn't take too long and within a couple of hours, the chore was finished. 

"Whew! All done!" JD cried as he plopped down on the divan.

"Now JD, don't get Melissa's stuff all messed up with your sweaty clothin'," Buck scolded, acting like the mother hen.

JD immediately got up. "Sorry, Melissa."

Melissa glanced up from the box she was trying to open. "Don't worry about it JD, that divan has had worse things spilled on it."

"You sure have a lot of interestin' things Melissa," Nathan commented as he admired a particular painting.

"Just a variety of things I've collected over the years," she commented. "Finally," she mumbled as the lid on the box tumbled on the ground. Inside were several packages about four feet long wrapped in brown paper. Picking up one of the packages, she carefully unwrapped it and revealed a beautiful Samurai sword.

Nathan let out a low whistle, as did everybody else. "May I take a look at that?"

"Sure," Melissa said and handed it carefully to Nathan.

He took it out of the scabbard and examined the blade. It had been well taken care of over the years; he noticed no nicks on the blade. The hilt had an antique silver finish and was shaped in a dragon's head with small rubies for eyes. Nathan made sure he wasn't close to anything breakable and gracefully swung the sword a couple of times. Josiah observed Nathan quietly and could tell he had experience with a sword before, but only God knew how.

"It has a good weight to it, nice and balanced," Nathan said admiring the craftsmanship.

"Thanks," Melissa commented. The Samurai sword that Nathan held in his hand was a twin of her own sword except instead of rubies for eyes, her sword had sapphires. Centuries ago, she had apprenticeship under a master sword maker in Japan. He had made the sword with rubies; she had made the one with sapphires. She reached down and grabbed another package from the box. Melissa too unwrapped the brown paper and revealed a knight sword from 13th century, another one of her favorites. "Care for some practice?" she asked as she gracefully twisted the sword around her body.

"In the barn?"

Melissa nodded. "Lead the way."

Nathan went out the door and Melissa followed. JD nudged Josiah in the side and asked, "Do they know what they are doin'?"

"I imagine so," Josiah said with a little twinkle in his eye. "Melissa won't take it too hard on him." He watched as JD hurried after the others. "At least not too much," he muttered under his breath.

Chris and Vin happened to be sitting in front of the saloon when they saw Nathan and Melissa walking down the street with the others walking a little bit behind them. Both did a double take when they saw the swords Nathan and Melissa were carrying.

"Are you seein' what I'm seein'? Chris asked.

Vin nodded slowly, making sure he wasn't seeing things. "Reckon we better satisfy our curiosity," he replied and he and Chris headed to the barn. When they finally got there, they could already hear the swoosh of the swords gliding through the air and the metallic ting that accompanied each contact of the blades. 

Melissa fought less than half of her capability. Of course, Nathan wasn't nearly as experienced as Josiah and herself, but she wanted to get a feel for his knowledge of the sword's variety of movements. She quickly found out that he was not as inexperienced as she first thought, and the two enjoyed discovering each other's skill level. During the fight, Melissa noticed Nathan's eyes seemed a little… haunted, as if this activity brought back painful memories. As the practice wore on she felt him move a little quicker, and a little more viciously. Not wanting this to get out of control and the possibility that someone would get hurt; she easily disarmed him sending the Samurai sword flying in the air and caught it her hand.

All of a sudden that predatory look in Nathan's eyes disappeared though his still retained that haunted look. He was glimpsed around numbly and realized he was in Four Corners, not back at the plantation where as a boy he had to learn how to use a sword quickly. The others looked on questionably but didn't break the silence.

Melissa looked at Nathan with some concern. She finally decided to speak up since the others didn't seem willing to do it any time soon. "You're pretty good with a sword Nathan," she with admiration in her voice. For a moment she hesitated on her next question, but plunged in anyway. "When did ya learn how to use one?"

Nathan began to clamor up. He really didn't like to talk about it, but the others were waiting for an answer and he decided he might as well get it out in the open. The others had noticed how the usually calm man began to fidget. "Back when I was a slave, the master decided he needed a sparing partner, me. So I had to learn quick."

The others nodded understandably. It was rare that any one of them would dredge up the past and they knew Nathan felt uncomfortable telling that little bit of information. One by one, they began to walk out of the barn, the matter closed.

The sun was sinking low on the horizon and was turning the cloudless sky into brilliant shades of pink and purple. Josiah and Chris were lounging in front of the Sheriff's office observing the townspeople going about their business, when Josiah lifted his head as he felt the unmistakable buzz of a nearby Immortal. He figured it would be Melissa returning from her trip from Eagle Bend. She had left with Vin earlier that afternoon to purchase some supplies that were out of stock at Mrs. Potter's store. His eyes searched the busy street looking for her, but instead of making eye contact with the Immortal woman, a well-dressed gentleman met his gaze. He was dressed similar to Ezra, pinstriped black pants, a black and silver vest, and a black three-quarter-length coat. Josiah cursed at himself for leaving his Crusader sword in his room but Chris was with him, and Immortals never fought with witnesses around. The Immortal approached the two of them and tipped his hat.

"Good evening gentlemen. May I inquire on the whereabouts of an Ezra Standish?" the unnamed Immortal said with a distinct southern drawl.

"Depends," Chris replied lazily from under his hat. "What you need him for?" he asked and raised his head to meet the eyes of the man. Immediately, he got a gut feeling he had met him somewhere before but couldn't quite place the face.

The Immortal flashed them an easy smile. "He's an friend of mine. From the good old days." He didn't elaborate any further. Inside, LaContè struggled to keep his hatred toward Larabee in check, but it was a little difficult as he remembered all the pain that Larabee caused him. This was the first encounter he had with him in twelve years. He had kept his distance; his minions like Fowler doing all the dirty work. This time though, when he killed Chris he wanted to do it himself. If his plan was to work then he had act inconspicuous as possible and not do anything that might tip off the lawman's attention. He wanted to torture Chris first then kill him. 'Plus, with this Immortal to deal with, I need to be more careful,' he thought.

However, his face betrayed his feelings a little, and this did not go unnoticed by Josiah. After all, Josiah was old enough to catch the subtle signs of a tormented soul. He stayed silent, not fully trusting this new Immortal yet. 

Ezra happened to be walking along the boardwalk heading toward the saloon when he noticed a very well dressed individual with Josiah and Chris. He stopped briefly to admire the gentleman's taste in clothing. Rarely in these parts did he see a gentleman dress as himself. As he began to study the man more closely, he had the strangest feeling he knew the gentleman somewhere and it suddenly dawned on him who it was. 

Josiah saw Ezra heading toward them with a wide smile on his face showing off his gold tooth. He began to become curious as to why he caught the look of anger on the Immortal's face, could in be possible he as something against Ezra? He decided to let the matter drop for now since Ezra looked like he was happy to see the man that was with them.

LaContè had yet to notice Ezra's approach and Ezra tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Pardon me sir, but aren't you the gentleman, who by a remarkable twist of fate, swooned the impeccable Miss Jennifer Mattingly off her feet?"

LaContè turned and flashed his old friend a smile. "Ezra," he said and grasped the man's hand and shook it firmly. "It's been a long time."

"Indeed it has," Ezra replied, his wide smile still plastered on his face. Josiah looked on his curiosity peeked. He had never seen Ezra so… relaxed.

"The years have been well on you," Ezra commented. He was so over-joyed to find Eric in Four Corners he didn't notice the subtle changes of Eric slipping on his poker face. He hadn't seen Eric the war started, and by then he was happily married and owned a well-sized plantation. While his mother and himself lived in New Orleans for the duration of the war, he had heard that the plantation was destroyed. Throughout the years, he had heard vague rumors… Eric was dead, he wasn't dead, and Ezra didn't know what to think on the welfare of his childhood friend. Of course the rumor of him being dead were false, because here he was standing in front of him. "How about we head over to the saloon and catch up on long forgotten times?"

"Ezra," hiding his true emotions behind his easy-going smile, "I think that's the best thing I've heard all day."

Both of them headed toward the saloon; Ezra so over joyous in seeing his old friend, he unintentionally ignored his two compatriots sitting on the porch.

"Well, guess we don't have to worry about that fella after him for one of his cons," Josiah said, with many unanswered questions in his mind.

Chris' gaze drilled into the back of the man accompanying Ezra. His gut feeling was getting worse by the minute and he wished in hell that he could remember why the man seemed so damn familiar. He answered Josiah statement with an undercurrent of vehemence, "At least not yet."

If any of the other men had walked in the saloon at that moment, they would have wondered whom in the hell Ezra was talking up a storm with. The two men's conversation was a little loud and boisterous; their laughter rang through the semi-empty saloon. A bottle of whisky lay in front of them, and slowly disappeared as the evening wore on. They recalled past adventures and the occasional mishaps that befell them when they were younger. 

Ezra couldn't get over the fact how well his friend looked. He was thirty-two years old, and Eric still looked like he was younger than him even though he was a good five years older than he was. To him, it seemed like Eric hadn't aged a day from the last time he had seen him and that was almost fifteen years ago. He inwardly smiled at the thought pleasant memories from his last visit. "Those were the best of times," Ezra recalled fondly. "Your wife, had the most endearing personality. How she is fairing these days?" 

LaContè immediately played his role and tried, successfully, to look distraught. "I'm, not exactly sure," he replied putting on his 'pity act.' "We lost everything in the war Ezra. After those damn Yankees burned down everything we had," the heat in his voice steadily growing, "we constantly fought, finally we parted our ways."

Ezra nodded his head slowly, understanding. He had briefly visited back home after the war and witnessed the scars the war had left on the beautiful countryside of the South. Lives were shattered, and the land still trying to heal. Conversation ceased then, as the two men silently retreated to those horrific times.

They were so lost in their thoughts that Ezra totally missed Buck and JD's entrance until they sat down next to him. Buck had noticed how sullen the two well-dressed gentlemen looked and decided for once to keep quiet, sipping his beer. However, JD could hardly stand still he kept getting up out of his chair, peek out the window, then sit back down again.

"Mr. Dunne," Ezra asked annoyed, after JD repeated the action several more times, "would you like to divulge in why on earth, you feel it is important to abrade my nerves?"

Turning away from window, JD sheepishly sat down and tried to stay still. "Nothin' really. I'm just waitin' to see if Vin and Melissa are back from Eagle Bend. I asked if Melissa could pick up a dime novel for me that just came out. Mrs. Potter doesn't have it yet." 

Ezra shook his head at JD's exuberant expression. 'To be that young again, to be that innocent,'he thought. He realized his lack manners, and introduced his friend to Buck and JD. "Gentleman, this is Eric LaContè, and old friend of mine from my days travelling in the South." LaContè acknowledged them by nodding his head. "My high-spirited friend is our sheriff, JD Dunne, and the individual sitting next to him is Buck Wilmington."

"Sheriff?" LaContè asked, his darkening mood quickly disappearing as if it never existed. 

"Yeah," JD announced proudly. "The seven of us are the law around these parts."

"Seven men?" he asked acting like he didn't know the group even existed. 

"Me of course, Buck and Ezra. The others are around here somewhere."

Eric raised his eyebrows incredulously. 'Ezra's one of them?!'He hid his surprise behind his nonchalant manner. "Never thought of you as a lawman Ezra."

"A recent venture I assure you. However, I am still engaged in the finer arts of gambling," Ezra stated. He took out his cards from his vest pocket and calmly shuffled them with amazing dexterity. "Would any of you care to donate to the 'Standish Tavern Fund'?'" he asked his comrades with a rueful smile on his handsome features. He was still trying to save enough money to purchase the place out from under his mother.

"Hell, it ain't like I got nothin' better to do," Buck said as he shrugged his shoulders.

Ezra raised his eyebrow questionably at JD. "Well, it's not like they'll be here any sooner if I'm pacin'," and indicated to Ezra to deal him in. The game began.

Melissa carefully walked up the steps of her new home balancing several packages. Vin was right behind her carrying several of his own. They had arrived after it had gotten dark, but the full moon lighted a path for them. It had been a relatively uneventful ride, but Vin enjoyed his brief freedom in the outdoors. For him, the town seemed to be closing in on him, and for a man used to camping underneath the stars, staying inside the confine spaces of a town for several weeks made him a little claustrophobic. It was one of the reasons why he asked Melissa if she wouldn't mind for some company. Melissa on the other hand who was so used to picking up her life every fifteen years or so, adjusted quickly to what some people call the 'civilized/city' life to the rustic life.

After settling the packages on the kitchen table, Melissa searched for the dime novel she bought for JD amongst the packages and slipped it into her pocket of her coat. She looked up at Vin who was leaning on the door post waiting patiently for her to find what she was looking for. "Saloon?" she asked.

"Saloon," Vin replied simply in his soft voice.

They quietly walked together toward their destination, the breeze billowing Melissa's knee-length black coat around her. As she headed up the saloon steps, Melissa paused mid-stride when she felt the nearby presence of an Immortal. Josiah was sitting in front of the Sheriff's office with Chris, so naturally her curiosity peeked.

Vin, who was right behind her, almost ran into her. Seeing a look of concern cross her features, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Ummm, nothing," she replied a little distracted. "Just tryin' to remember if I got everything I needed from the store in Eagle Bend."

Vin chuckled slightly. "Don't look at me, I think you got enough stuff to last ya for a year."

"Hardy har har," and walked through the batwing doors, her eyes searching the room for the Immortal. Making eye contact with him, she immediately felt a somewhat mollified. He immediately returned his attention to his cards, not bothering with the Immortal woman for the moment. She noticed he was engrossed in a game of poker with Ezra, Buck, and JD, and she decided would meet this new Immortal later. Melissa settled down at a table not far away from them as Vin went to the bar to get a couple of drinks for them.

She had been sitting leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed when she heard someone sit down beside her and place an object on the table. Assuming it was Vin with their drinks, she opened her eyes and was about to thank him for the beer when she found herself looking at a definite drunk man. Melissa cursed at herself for letting her guard down even briefly. Not liking the leery look he was giving her, she kindly excused herself from table to search for another. At least that was the plan.

"Oh, come on now Missy," he slurred as he fiercely grabbed her arm holding it tightly, "why don't stay awhile. I can make your day better."

She cringed underneath the stench of his aclohol-laddened breath. "I rather not," she stated firmly and twisted her arm from the man's grip, catching him by surprise. As she turned away from him, she discovered the unwelcome feeling of an arm slithering around her waist. Melissa immediately elbowed him in the gut and as about to do more, when the unnamed Immortal cocked his gun and jabbed it in the drunken man's back.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?" he stated angrily.

The man's foggy mind tried to process those words, but it didn't register and he tried vainly to attack the man. Eric easily dodged the punch as Buck went behind and butted him in the head with his gun. The would-be attacker slid gracefully to the floor, out cold.

"You try to get some peace and quiet, then BOOM, some idiot decides to interrupt it," Melissa said a little ticked.

Buck, why don't you and I take him to jail," Vin drawled when he reached the small group. Buck nodded and picked up the man off the floor and both of them dragged the man to the Sheriff's office.

Melissa looked at the Immortal and introduced herself. "Melissa Kyle," and extended her hand.

Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it up to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. "Eric LaContè," he replied.

Ezra felt a surge of jealously as his friend continued to charm Melissa by engaging her in some pleasant conversation. He could see the sparkle in her eyes and absentmindedly began to run his hands through his short chestnut-colored hair. 

"JD, Ezra," she greeted as she sat down at the table with her drink. She extracted the dime novel from her the pocket of her coat and gave it to JD. "I believe you've been waiting for this?"

"Thanks Melissa," JD replied gratefully.

"You're welcome," smiling at the obvious excitement of JD as he flipped through the book.

The four of them talked for awhile, and Vin and shortly returned from the jail. Buck had decided to flirt with all the ladies in the room so Vin replaced him as the fourth player. 

Melissa was a talking adamantly with LaContè, and found him quite charming. However, she sensed something dark lurking behind those hazel eyes. Every now and then, she saw the clenching of the jaw and the hurt in his eyes when rehashing the past. However, she believed it was none of her business. People have their own share of tragic pasts and for Immortals it was know exception. She was laughing at a story that Eric was telling about Ezra when Chris walked through the doors.

The pause in his story was almost unnoticeable by the others, but Melissa noticed it right away. What concerned her the most was the absolute, murderous rage that flashed briefly in his eyes when Chris Larabee walk through the doors. 

She finished the rest of her beer. "If you excuse me gentleman, I believe I am in need of additional liquid refreshment." 

Josiah walked in the saloon and nodded at Chris who was up at the bar. He was about to join the rest of his friends when he noticed Melissa getting other beer. He could tell something was bothering her; he had known her long enough to see the signs.

As he approached her, he observed how Melissa was regarding the group at the back, especially the new Immortal.

"Hey, Josiah."

"I would ask if you met the new blood today, but I reckon I already know the answer."

"Ain't that the truth." She took a sip from her newly refilled beer. "There's something about him….."

"You've noticed too," he nodded agreeing with her, and he silently watched as Ezra was laughing along with his friend.

"Heck it was written all over his face when Chris walked in the door." She glanced over at Chris and noticed he was taking scrupulous looks at LaContè.

Josiah sighed. Just what they needed. First Hunter, now LaContè might be trouble. 'Two new Immortals in less than a week ain't my cup of tea. Make that whisky,' he thought. "Guess we'll just have to tread softly."

Chris had been watching LaContè carefully all evening. His mind racked trying to place that face, but he failed miserably. He tensed slightly as LaContè made his way toward him.

"Mr. Larabee," he greeted and hollered at the bartender for another bottle of whisky.

Chris' eyes turned into silts. "How do you know my name?"

LaContè gave him a half-smile. "Ezra told me."

If was possible, Chris' face hardened even more. He knew the gambler would never introduce one of his friends by just pointing them out in the crowd. The air around them thickened with tension. It didn't pass until LaContè headed back to Ezra's table but not without one of his enigmatic smiles of his toward Chris. 

Josiah watched the brief interlude between the two men. Something was amiss, one look at Chris' face told the story. He casually made his way over to him and stood silently next to the gunslinger.

Chris was the first to speak up. "Don't like him."

Inwardly, Josiah smiled. 'Blunt and to the point, very typical.'

"Ain't you just jumpin' the gun a bit?" he asked casually.

He shook his head firmly and knocked down a shot of whisky before answering. "Gut feelings are usually right."

As the night wore on, the two men casually kept an eye on LaContè. It was almost closing time, and everyone else had called it a night except Ezra. He was one of the last people in the saloon; he had been playing poker with some new comers. Lucky for him, and not for them. 

"Calling in a night?" Melissa asked, as Ezra slipped his cards in his vest pocket. She had visited a couple of the locales around town after finishing up her beer earlier in the evening. She had to straighten a couple of loose ends. Tucked in her black coat was the deed to the saloon and she had a proposition for Ezra that she was positive he wouldn't pass up.

"I'm afraid my dear, that Morepheus has beckoned me." He extended his arm at her. "Would you mind if I escort you to your residence?"

She smiled at him. "Of course not. Actually, there is something I need to talk to you about, but you were teaching some of those fellas a lesson I said to myself why bother."

"One can never be too enlighten on the rudiments of poker. What sort of issue would you like to discuss?" 

"I've learned through some resources," she began as they walked toward her house, "that your mother bought the saloon out from under you."

Ezra was mildly shocked. "It seems that my compatriots have been able to keep their mouth shut," he said jokingly.

"Actually no, it was the bank teller that couldn't keep his mouth shut. You see, before I became I bounty hunter, I was the saloon business for awhile."

That small statement caused Ezra to come to an abrupt stop on Melissa's porch step.

She turned and couldn't help to laugh at the expression on his face.

"I'm sorry Melissa, but you…"

"Seem hardly the type of person to run a saloon? Yeah, I've heard the whole bit. 'A woman has no place in running a business' but who says I gotta listen to them?" 

He nodded slowly. "Pray tell, how does this information pertain to me?"

As Melissa sat down on the bench, she proceeded to remove the deed to the saloon from her coat pocket and handed it silently to him. She watched with some amusement to his reaction as he read the contents.

He took deed read it and double checked the words making sure his eyes weren't playin' tricks on him. "You're the new owner?" he asked incredulously.

"Yup. But I need someone to help me run the place. You know of anyone who's interested?"

For once in his life, Ezra didn't have a sarcastic comment handy. But in the deep recess of his mind, he had to question her motives. "Might you elaborate on the terms of agreement?"

"The catch you mean? None. If you accept Ezra, we'll split the profits fifty/fifty. Deal?" she said as she held out her hand.

For a moment Ezra hesitated. It had always been his life long dream to own a saloon, and co-ownership wouldn't be to bad. Melissa was trustworthy and her offer seemed genuine. When his mother Maude bought the Standish Tavern out from under him it hurt him more deeply that he let the rest of the men see. The answer was simple. "My dear, you have just found yourself a partner."

The next two days passed without any incident. Chris' feeling toward LaContè didn't waver, although Josiah and Melissa became a little more acceptable of the new Immortal in town. He hadn't done anything that would have been called dangerous, so they shrugged it off, attributing the feeling to meeting a new Immortal. The transition of ownership of the saloon went by smoothly and it seemed the town was moving into quieter times. But looks are deceiving. 

During that time, Chris had become increasingly moody and distant. The constant nagging feeling about Ezra's friend was bothering him more than he would like to admit. He was also thinking about his dead wife and son and that pulled his dark mood even further. He even snapped at Billy when he caught him in one of his less than favorable moods.

Chris was sitting by himself in the back since the others had begun to stay away from him. Trying to talk any sense into Chris was practically impossible. Josiah tried once but that only earned him the business end of Chris' gun. Vin and Buck were in the saloon when Mary Travis came storming in.

Mary headed right to Chris' table. "What hell were you thinking?!" she yelled, and all activity in the saloon came to an abrupt halt.

Unaffected by the voice, he continued to calmly sip the shot of whisky and ignored Mary, which made her even angrier.

She boldly came face to face with him and slapped the drink from his hands. "If you don't notice Mr. Larabee I am talking to you!" her manners far from the lady-like attitude she was raised to be. 

He slowly rose from his chair and turned his angry eyes toward her and met with the fury of her green eyes. It was one of those few times Buck actually felt scared for the beautiful widow and was relieved he wasn't on the receiving end of Chris' wrath. 

"That boy," she started gestured with her hands, "as been crying all day because what you said to him! What could he have possibly done?" the heat of her voice rising with each passing minute.

Up till now everyone had left him alone and he didn't exactly appreciate Mary interrupting his moody state. "He talked."

Mary bristled at the comment. She knew of this dark mood he got every now and then, but it didn't give him the right to yell at her son. "That's a low excuse Mr. Larabee, and you know it. His 'hero' is angry at him and I want to know why!"

Instead of answering her, he picked up the shot glass from the floor, poured some whisky, and drank it down in one gulp.

Mary saw the stubborn look in his eyes and stormed angrily out of the saloon. The batwing doors slammed loudly against the wall as Mary made her exit. For a few moments all was quiet in the saloon, and the patrons were still staring at Chris who had already knocked down another shot.

"What are you looking at?!"

All eyes turned away from the angry man, but Vin and Buck looked on with growing concern. This dark mood of his was starting affect people around him and it looked as if Chris didn't care. 

Ezra, who was managing at the moment, wandered over to his friends' table. "It would appear our leader is slowly falling." 

"Man, I never seen him like this!" Buck responded.

"Not even when…"

"No," Buck stated firmly, "didn't think he could get any worse. It's like…"

"Gentleman," a new voice interrupted the conversation, "Is Chris around?" Melissa asked.

Vin nodded in Chris' direction. "I wouldn't though," he drawled, his soft voice full of concern. 

"Why?" she asked the three men as she looked at the three men. Melissa had no idea of Chris' change in moods.

"Mr. Larabee as become quite discourteous of late," Ezra stated.

"Maybe you should try later," Buck suggested.

She shrugged her shoulders and was about to take Buck's advice, but when she took a glance and saw the depth of pain in his eyes, she changed her mind. "Nah, I'll talk to him now. Besides," she said waving a small rectangular package in her hands, "I have an excuse."

"Bet you five dollars he chews her out within a minute," Buck said once she was out of earshot, but secretly hoping Melissa could talk some sense in the harden gunslinger.

"Bet? My how I like the sound of that. I bet he will converse with lady. She does have a way with words," Ezra replied.

Buck looked expectedly at Vin.

"Neutral," was all he said.

Chris had been staring into his shot glass when a shadow fell across the table. "What do you want?"

Melissa settled down in a nearby chair, stating clearly that she didn't intend to move an inch. "Just to talk," she stated simply.

"Ain't in the mood."

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared hard in his face. There was a lot of emotion bleeding through his chiseled features, and there was only one thing Melissa knew of that would cause a man to spiral down into the depths of pain. "Who was she?" she whispered softly.

His head snapped up in shock. He about to make a snide remark, but a look of understanding crossed her delicate features, causing the usually emotionally harden man to bite back his reply. 'Besides,' Chris thought, 'she knows better than any one else how it is to lose someone close to you.'It was one of the reasons why he tried to push his feelings away for a certain widow. He did want to go through it again; he didn't want to lose someone he cared about to a random (or not) act of violence.

"Someone who should have been alive if it weren't for me," he stated in a quiet voice. 

She smiled gently. "Ah, the 'What If' game. I did that I lot after my family died. What if I had been better? What if I was able to stop Hunter," she sighed deeply. " I probably was once like you, not a care in world. I pushed everything away and lost a good few things in the process because I didn't care if I hurt the feeling of others. I was so different from the person I used to be. Hatred, anger, turns anyone, don't care if it's a man or woman Chris. It changes them into something they aren't suppose to be."

"Doesn't matter, when she died… it was like half my soul left," surprising himself at how he could easily talk to her.

"Exactly. Do you think you're the only person who's lost a little bit of their soul? A part of me will always be with my father and sister, but sooner or later you've gotta move on. Chris I am not the same person I was five years ago, heck even JD ain't the same naïve boy he was six months ago! Who knows what we will learn today, in six months, in five years? A person changes a lot, and I bet your life changed when you met her," Melissa said with a gentle smile.

For the first time in quite awhile, Chris actually smiled when his thoughts turned to his family. He closed his eyes, remembering the good times he and Sarah had shared. And truthfully, his life had changed when he had met Sarah. Instead of the notorious gunslinger, was a man who decided to give up that life and started a ranch with his wife. Who would have known that would make him happy. Chris thought nothing could make him happier but when they adopted Adam, his heart belonged to that boy. He would do anything for him. "I loved her so much," whispered not really caring how his emotion bled through his voice.

Melissa nodded, feeling she was making some progress. Instead of sitting next to a darken shell, Chris had opened up to her. It may have been a small accomplishment, but and accomplishment nevertheless. "Who was she?" repeating her earlier question, praying she could get through more layers of Chris' emotional barriers.

Chris twirled the empty shot glass on the table. His eyes watered as he thought of his lost love. "Sarah, my wife. Three years ago, I…I lost her in a fire." A lonely tear ran down his cheek. "I should have been there… I should have been able to do something…" he said, his voice cracking.

"And I should have been able to save my sister from my burning home," Melissa countered. "But I couldn't. And neither could you." Melissa stood up intending to leave him with that parting advice. She was satisfied she was able to peel off some of his barriers, confident that Chris would feel comfortable to talk to her again. She began to walk away but remembered what brought her over in the first place.

"Oh, this came for you through the mail," and removed it from her coat pocket. She flashed him a mischievous smile. "It seems the post man didn't have the guts to give it you himself," she said and pretended to look confused, "I wonder why?"

Chris laughed a little. "Usually the townspeople have learned to stay away. You're the only one whose dared approached me the last few days." Then he thought for a moment. "Actually second."

Melissa smile faltered a little. "Must have been Mary then."

Chris looked at her questionably.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I saw her storm off earlier."

Chris twinged in regret and inwardly cursed at himself about the confrontation he had earlier with the reporter. He really didn't intend to make her so angry or to hurt Billy. "Remind me to go apologize to her. And Billy." He took the package from her, curious to who would be sending him mail. There wasn't anything on it to indicate whom it was from.

"Don't look at me I'm just the messenger," Melissa said when Chris threw her a curious look.

"Only one way to find out," Chris replied and began to unwrap it.

Buck grumbled in defeat and paid his dues to the smiling gambler. However, he secretly cheered Melissa for her ability to talk some sense into the gunslinger. 

"It would seem that the lady is victorious in her conquest of our leader's barrier."

"Well I'll be…" Buck whispered happiness flowing through him when he saw Chris laugh at something that Melissa said. Buck saw him unwrap the small package and immediately saw his eyes widen in surprise and shock. From across the room he couldn't see what he was holding in his hand or decipher the single word Chris mouthed. Before anyone knew what was going on, Chris disappeared through the batwing doors, leaving a very confused Melissa behind.

Buck and Vin concerned for their friend, hurried over to Melissa, who was still standing, frozen in her location. In all her years of Immortality, she had never seen anyone react the way Chris did.

"What was that all about!" Buck asked heatedly.

"Hold your horses Buck," Vin replied. Vin could see how Chris' reaction had shaken her. 

Melissa was staring out the window with her back towards them, dumbfounded at the recent turn of events. That little progress she made came to an abrupt end by that little object. "Whose Adam?" confusion laced in her voice.

Both Vin and Buck's jaw dropped at the simple question. The last thing on their minds was Melissa speaking a name of a person long gone. 

"Say that again?" Buck said, sure he was hearing things.

Melissa turn around, her face contorted with deep lines of worry for the man in black. "Adam. It was what he said when he saw the pocket knife."

Buck's face went white. "You didn't happen get a good look at it did ya?"

"Uhh, yes I did," a little shocked at how suddenly pale Buck became. "Casing was made of wood, painted red I think…" she mused and furrowed her eyebrows desperately trying to recall more details, "Oh! And the initials AL etched in the wood."

"My God…" Buck mumbled his mind reeling in the implications of Melissa's words. "I gave that to Adam for his fifth birthday. Everything was lost in the fire. At least we thought everything was lost…" he said hurriedly, his voice betraying the pure anguish he had for his oldest friend. He could barely imagine the shock Chris was experiencing right now and ran out the door to find him before he did anything stupid.

Vin and Melissa stared at Buck's retreating form and both hoped that he could somehow help Chris. But Melissa's question was still unanswered. "Whose Adam?"

Vin plopped heavily in a nearby chair. "His adopted son."

She nodded, understanding. Not only had Chris lost a love, but also a little boy whom he obviously cared for very much. Haunted by the memories of past best forgotten.

Eric hid his smile of satisfaction behind a mug of beer. When he saw the package Melissa waved in front of the other men he knew that his plan was in motion. 'One more surprise Larabee, then you're all mine.'

Buck searched the darken streets for his old friend. Not seeing him anywhere, he headed over to Chris' room at the boarding house hoping Chris didn't go off riding in the night. As Buck got closer to his destination, the methodical sound of objects being broken rang throughout the boarding house. 

Buck pounded the doors to Chris' room, hoping for an acknowledgement. He jumped back a bit when a large object was hurled against the door causing it to tremor. "Chris?"

His only response was another object hurled at the door. 

"Chris come on, we need to talk!" Buck yelled and pounded on the door, hoping to get through to him.

The door came flying open. Chris opened it so hard that doorknob rattled the wall as the door hit it. Standing in the doorway, a red-faced Chris Larabee stood looking far worse than Buck remembered seeing. Buck gingerly stepped into the room. Broken pieces of furniture were scattered on the floor. On the dresser, Buck spied the object that was the cause of all of the destruction. 

He picked it up, not believing the truth. 'The pocketknife, but how can that be?!' And the only reason why Buck knew it really was Adam's was because there, plain as day was the initials he carved on the handle when Adam was afraid he would lose it.

Leave me alone Buck," Chris growled, interrupting the usually carefree gunslinger thoughts.

"Don't think so buddy," and turned around, ready to face the Chris' wrath.

Chris walked up to him and wretched the pocketknife from his fingers and threw it across the room. The pocketknife thumped loudly against the wall and it disappeared behind the dresser. "GET OUT!"

Buck stood face to face with his old friend. "I loved him too Chris! You are not the only one hurtin' here," hoping his calm voice would cool down the rage building inside Chris.

Chris paused, one word effecting him above all else. Loved.Why did it have to loved, past tense? Why could his family be with him, right here right now? More than anything in the world he wished for the lives of his dead family. Their faces, their beautiful faces flashed before him and he instinctively reached out for them. Just as he was about to caress her face, they faded away, causing such bitter heartache. Crumbling against the onslaught of emotions, he collapsed on his bed, and asked the one question no one could answer, "Why?"

Buck's heart went out to his fallen friend. He had seen the man suffer enough, when would the day come that Chris would overcome his grief? He realized it would be the day the found out who killed his family. That night Buck once again, reiterated a promise he made that fateful day three years ago. "Chris, whoever did this, is one sick son of a bitch. A son of bitch who will regret the day he crossed Chris Larabee."

It was a restless night for Chris. Buck had stayed with him for awhile trying to calm him down. He was semi-successful in his task, but he knew the restless nights for Chris would come when the killer came to light. When Chris was finally able to sleep, all his nightmares came roaring back. The haunting apparition of his wife and son called to him, screamed at him to help them. But all he could do was gaze at the burning wall, his feet frozen in place. The screams pierced his mind and he awoke with a start. His entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat and Chris shakily ran his hand through his hair. It was late morning, and he was extremely reluctant to climb out of bed. But the thought of drowning himself in whisky appealed him. Chris got dressed not bothering with shaving and trudged toward the saloon.

Melissa was busy getting the saloon ready for the rush of patrons when Ezra came in through the back door. The circles under his eyes were definite and he immediately reached for the coffee. "Ah, he finally decides to show up," she teased.

"I must say Melissa, the one draw back in this deal is the ungodly hour I have to arise each day," Ezra replied as he gulped down the hot liquid.

"Ezra, it's ten o'clock and the saloon opens in a hour."

Ezra mumbled back a reply and went about helping the bartender in setting up the glasses for the day. Ezra had barely opened the inner doors when Buck came bursting in, a worried look on his face. He quickly made his way to the bar and ordered a beer. He too had a restless night, the image of the pocketknife seared in his mind.

Buck took a huge gulp of beer when the bartender handed it to him. "Have you seen Chris?" he asked Melissa.

"Not since last night," she replied. "How's he doing?"

"Not good," Buck replied as he ran his hand across his weary face. "He practically destroyed the everythin' in his room the other night, some twice." 

"Has there been any word on how Mr. Larabee came into the possession of his son's pocket knife?" Ezra inquired as he sat down next to Buck. After Chris left the other night, word had got around quickly to the other men it looked like Fowler's employer was making his presence known. Each of the men had been promised to look out for any suspicious characters.

"Nope," was the one word reply.

"Damn," Melissa grumbled. Josiah had told her what he knew of Chris' family and the events that transpired with Fowler five months ago. To be that close to finding out who killed his family and then having it all slip away when that damn man walked into the burning barn must have been maddening for Chris. And now it seemed the person who hired Fowler was exacting a slow torturous game with him. "Vin," she greeted the tracker as he walked through the doors.

Vin unceremoniously tossed the package on the table. "This came in for Chris."

Buck's looked at the thing as if it was a piece of dynamite. "Another one? You don't think…" he trailed off.

"Think what?" Chris asked, startling the group. He looked awful. His face was unshaven, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair stood in every direction.

"Uh…nothin'" Buck stammered.

"Huh, huh," was Chris' reply, not noticing the package on the table. He didn't believe Buck for a second, but he was far from willing to push the subject. Chris strode up to the bartender. "Whisky, and leave the bottle." After the bartender got the bottle for Chris he sat down in the darkest corner of the saloon intending to drink the day away.

"Lovely," Melissa muttered, not exactly happy that Buck decided to hide an important clue from Chris. "Why didn't you just tell him about that thing?" she said as she waved at the unopened item.

"He don't need any more grief!" Buck practically hollered.

"Well like it or not, it will hurt him even more when he finds out we've been hidin' something from him!"

Ezra cleared his throat. "I'm afraid I would have to agree with the lady in her reasoning. I suggest we should give Mr. Larabee the parcel to discover the contents of it and make sure his actions don't turn awry."

Buck still had some doubts. He really didn't want to even imagine what would happen if Chris found out that they were keeping secrets from him. "Alright," he grumbled, "but I ain't goin' over there by myself."

"We'll all go," Melissa said. She glanced up when she felt an Immortal approach and saw Josiah walk in with Nathan. LaContè was not far behind them.

"Melissa, gentlemen," Eric greeted the small group. "Ezra, I was hoping to win back some of my fortune you have appropriated."

Ezra chuckled slightly. "I'm afraid that it will have to wait my friend, I have to attend some business first," he replied as Buck was explaining to the newcomers what was going on.

Eric simply nodded. He noticed the small package Vin carried in his hands and inwardly smiled. He salivated at the prospect of Chris reaction. "As long we will renew or match," he replied easily.

"For me to pass on a game of chance? Why it would be a cardinal sin," Ezra replied his smile easily matching his friend. He tipped his hat and joined the rest of his comrades who were heading toward Chris' table.

Chris glanced up from his drink as the group approached him. Melissa had stayed up at the bar, helping the bartender with drinks since a slew of people had decided to walk through the door. They stood in front him, shadowing the little light that filtered back to his table. The somber looks on they're faces was unmistakable and Chris wondered what the hell was going on. 

"What did JD do now?" he kidded half-heartedly.

"Chris, now it may be nothin'…" Buck started.

"What?" he asked, starting to get annoyed when no one answered him. "If y' all are just going to sit there, find another table," he grumbled before tossing back the fiery liquid.

Vin silently placed the package on the table as the five members of the Seven sat around him. 

"It came for you today. For you," Nathan said in a way of explanation.

Chris fingered the box, hesitant to open it. Like Buck said it could be nothing, but what if there was a clue to his family's killer inside? He unwrapped the paper and gingerly opened the box. A small object tumbled out of it, and although there was little light he could see it clearly and stared at it dumfounded. If emotions were akin to a bullet then hundreds of bullets slammed into him; his emotions washed over him like an unending wave sending the already worn out gunman to the breaking point. With shaky hands, he fingered the piece of jewelry and lifted it to the light to get a closer look. It was a silver locket he had given to Sarah on their first anniversary. 

"My God…" Buck said, recognizing what it was and sat back in his chair horrific as the scene unfolded in front of him.

Chris stared numbly as the silver locket twirled back and forth, every now and then catching a ray of sunlight. It was polished to a glorious sheen and showed no signs that it was in a fire. Chris gingerly opened and nestled inside was a picture of him and Sarah. Sarah's picture though had huge scratch mark, one he knew was never there. "No, no, it can't be…" he mumbled repeatedly. "IT CAN'T BE!" he yelled out loud causing the five men at the table to jump; even Melissa jumped at the sound and she was all the way across the saloon. He clenched his hands so tight, his knuckles began to turn white. "Leave me alone."

"Chris…" Buck began.

Quick as lightening, Chris reached over the table and grabbed the collar of his oldest friend. He tightened his grip on Buck's collar and seethed in a slow voice, "Leave…me…alone."

"Chris…" Josiah tried.

"I don't need any of your preachin'!"

"Suit yourself Chris. But remember, the door is always open," he replied, his soft voice a sharp contrast to Chris' booming voice. He got up to leave the table. The others were reluctant to follow suit, but the predatory eyes and vicious glare of Chris…

Each of the men moved slowly away. In the discarded box, Nathan noticed a neatly folded piece of paper wedged in the bottom of the box, so he grabbed for it. Chris was too immerse in his thoughts to notice. As he approached the other men, he heard Melissa curse in a litany of different languages. The others were mildly surprised at interesting words, but mostly were concerned about Chris' reaction. None of them had any idea what the locket meant, but as Buck explained, they increasingly grew angry. JD also listened with shock; he was passing by the saloon when he heard the booming voice of Chris Larabee. 

"What a sick, sadistic, son of a bitch!" she seethed, after Buck finished his tale. She could barely keep her anger in check. Her tirade was momentarily halted when she caught a glance of something she sure didn't like. LaContè smiling. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and that nagging feeling erupted again. The 'trust' she had over the last couple of days for the new Immortal, wavered. 'Could he be responsible? But why?' "We've gotta find who's been sending these… unwelcome reminders." 

"This might be a clue," Nathan replied, holding up the small note. 

"What's it say?" 

Nathan unfolded the yellow sheet of paper. Only three words graced the page. "Ready or not."

"That's it?" Buck said and threw his hands up in frustration when Nathan nodded an affirmative. "Now what the hell does that mean?!"

"Good Lord."

Everyone turned toward Ezra. He never mumbled those two words unless something bad was happening. Really bad.

"It's part of a very popular phrase I am afraid. Quoted many times," he elaborated. "Ready or not, here I come."

"Here I come…" JD said a little bewildered, "what does that…oh… oh boy," as he realized has its meaning dawned on him.

"Precisely Mr. Dunne. Who ever has been sending these so called gifts, intends to come to our lovely municipality."

"To finish what he started," Melissa said quietly. The others let the comment sink in. Whoever this person was, he was torturing Chris both body and soul. They knew Chris couldn't take anymore anguish, what little willpower he had was slowly fading.

"Now the sixty four dollar question is, who is person?" said Nathan breaking through everyone's thoughts.

"Let's spread out," Buck said, "someone has to have noticed something."

"We just can't leave Chris alone," JD spoke up.

"I'll stay. It's not like I've got something better to do," Melissa spoke up.

"Let's head out," Vin drawled and tipped his hat gratefully to Melissa. The others followed Vin's action but not without throwing a grateful look toward the Melissa.

Josiah was the last to go but he noticed the Immortal woman scrutinizing the other Immortal. "What is it?" She didn't answer him, she continued to stare at LaContè. "Melissa?" and waved his hand in front of his face.

"Huh? Oh Josiah! Sorry, my mind was somewhere else."

"I can see that," he replied as he leaned against the bar. "Find something interestin'?" he asked as he nodded toward LaContè.

"It's just that, well… I'm positive LaContè was listening to our conversation earlier, and well… he was smiling, like he knew something we didn't."

"Hmmm… he doesn't seem to be much trouble, the only person he's talked to the last couple of days is Ezra."

"Yeah, but you didn't see that smile… it was one of pure satisfaction."

"You think he might be behind it?"

Melissa shook her head not knowing what to think. "Maybe. But I can say for sure that I'll keep my eye on him."

Josiah sighed deeply and silently observed LaContè. He had picked up several traces of hatred behind the carefree attitude of the Immortal over the last couple of days but he attributed the gestures to a tragic past. Josiah had his own share of heartache, watching mortal friends and lovers die, witnessing the horrors of war, and the brutality of man. But his faith had kept him going. 'What did LaContè have to keep him going? Has his hatred become too much, consumed him?'What is the fine line of good and evil in an Immortal's world? It was then he caught a glance of what Melissa was suspicious about. When LaContè looked over at the grieving form of Chris, a malevolent smile played across his features. Josiah's eyes widen slightly and when LaContè turned to the two people staring at him, both Immortals shivered at the sight.

"Keep an eye on him," Josiah stated flatly and walked out the door, finding that he needed to say some prayers.

__

They know what going on LaContè mused, as he silently sipped the fiery liquid, relishing the feel of it as it went down his throat. 'But they won't do anything no without telling their secret.'He sat back and waited.

Morning turned into afternoon, and Ezra managed the saloon as Melissa took a break. Josiah was also in the saloon, taking over guard duties over the Immortal. They didn't want to tell the others what was going on, dealing with an Immortal was complicated. The rest of the seven had not yielded a thing, and were further dismayed as Chris continued his spiral downward. He won't let anyone near him, he would sit at his table, lost in his thoughts while knocking back a whisky or two. He was already on his second bottle of whisky when Ezra relieved Melissa. 

Eric watched the proceedings with pleasure. He enjoyed tormenting Chris with his gifts and laughed inwardly at the concern of the others. One thing he did not enjoy was the actions of an old friend, Ezra. In his twisted mind, he saw Ezra's concern for Chris as a betrayal to the South and to their friendship, and nothing could be done to convince him otherwise. Ezra was just as guilty as Chris was in his eyes. 

LaContè continued to play the role of a friend as Ezra came over and played a round of poker. Ezra need a brief interlude to relax and playing poker with LaContè seemed like the medicine he needed. Eric agreed plastering a smile on his face, while all the time growing increasingly angry with him at his betrayal. He promised himself that Standish would get the same justice as Larabee.

Melissa was eating by herself when Mary Travis walked in the restaurant. "Mary, how are you doing today?" her voice lacking the usual enthusiasm.

"I'm fine," she said but she looked and sounded anything but fine. Mary was still angry about the fiasco the other day.

"Really?" not believing her for a minute, "why don't you join me and we can talk why you're just 'fine'."

Mary sat down and ordered her lunch. Things were quiet for a moment when Mary vented her frustrations. "He can be so infuriating at times!"

"Chris?"

"I mean, I understand how tragic it was when he lost his family," her voice began to break when she thought of Stephen, "I lost my husband not that long ago… but those moods of his… he has no right to take it out on my son!"

"No he doesn't. Although he has his moods, he is still a good man. He was going to apologize," Melissa said as she took a bite out of her fried chicken.

"Pardon me?" Mary asked a little shocked.

Melissa chewed on her food thoughtfully. "He was going to apologize, he told me yesterday, but a lot of things as been happening since then," she said and made a face as she began to explain what happened over the last day.

Mary's eyes widen in shock as she listened to the horrific tale. "My word…" she mumbled, unable to say a word for the next five minutes. The meal she ordered arrived but all of a sudden she wasn't hungry anymore.

"Maybe you can try to talk to him," hoping the beautiful widow could get through to him. "I've tried, the others tried, but he ain't listening. All he wants is to drown in that whisky."

"I don't know… Chris and I haven't always seen eye to eye."

"But you've known him longer than I have. Who knows? He might just listen."

Mary smiled gently. "Maybe."

From the way Mary walked out the saloon, the talk with Chris definitely did not go well. Her concern for Chris was written all over her face. Anything he said to her she just took it in stride; she knew it was the whisky talking. She even apologized for her behavior the other day.

Vin, Nathan, Buck and Josiah were sitting at a table, chatting quietly. Chris was still at the same table, he hadn't moved since that morning. It was frustrating to the group to see their leader deteriorate, but Chris shook off all attempts of help. 

Josiah had been keeping an eye on LaContè and as the afternoon turned into night, instinct told him to watch out for this Immortal. Like Chris, he had not left the saloon all day; he would talk periodically with Ezra and play poker with the locals. But the look in his eyes every time he looked at Chris… it was a look of pure delight.

Josiah also turned an eye over to Melissa who was standing by the bar, as far away as possible from Ezra. Earlier, they had an argument about Eric; she idly asked how long the two had known each other and one thing lead to another. He had no idea what had been said but from her stance, she was fuming and Josiah wasn't in the mood to ask. Whenever she starting cursing in several languages, Josiah knew to stay away.

Earlier that day…

Melissa had been taking stock in the back room when Ezra entered. They were low on supplies and she needed to figure out what they needed. "Melissa my dear, it seems we are short on mugs." Ezra smiled ruefully. "It would appear Mr. Wilmington shattered one while he was conversing with our young Sheriff."

"Again?" and shook her head as she went and grabbed a couple more mugs and handed them to Ezra. "These are the last. If he breaks anymore, I'm going to tell that man I'll start charging him," she kidded.

Ezra's smile got even wider. "I'm sure Mr. Wilmington will be over joyous when he hears of your decree," he replied as he was about to go back out front.

"Oh, Ezra… this my seem a little unusual but… how long have you known Eric?"

"Ever since we were little. Why do ask?"

"When's the last time you saw him?" she asked ignoring his question.

Ezra looked at her a little confused. "Is this an inquisition?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Just answer Ezra, please."

"A year before the War of the States," he said. With a little force, "why all the questions?"

"Nothin… just wonderin," Melissa replied. She didn't want to tell him off her suspicions unless she was sure. She returned to counting the supplies trying to ignore the look Ezra was giving her.

However, Ezra was stubborn moving away from the doorway until he got an answer. Eric was a lifetime friend, and no matter how casual the question seemed, there had to be a reason for it.

Melissa felt Ezra's gaze drill at her and sighed, he wasn't going to leave her alone until she told the truth. "I think he's knows something the whole mess."

"Eric?" and laughed at Melissa's deduction. "Eric could not harm a fly!"

"Ezra, it's been fifteen years since you last saw him," she pointed out, "a lot could happen in that time."

Ezra's stubbornness would not let him think any differently for his friend. He had known Eric for a long time, and knew he wasn't capable of what Melissa was suggesting. "And what brilliant evidence could support your theory?"

"Well, its not like I have anything concrete but… damn it Ezra, I got this nagging feeling he knows something. Plus, I have other reasons." She thought about his Eric's Immortality and possible history.

"What illustrious reasons have you deduced?" he prodded.

"I wish I can tell you Ezra, but I can't," hoping to appease the gambler. But she was wrong.

He grew angry that Melissa wouldn't trust him. 'She trusted me easily enough to make me co-owner but she can't tell me why she suspects Eric of being behind this mess?' he thought. "Eric is a good man, one of the most gracious gentleman I had the pleasure of knowing. He lost everything in the war, his plantation," heat gaining in his voice. Ezra's mouth moved before he had time to think of his next statement. "Something I highly doubt you know about."

Melissa grew infuriated at what he was suggesting. "You saying I don't know what it is to lose somebody?" the heat in her voice ringing loud and clear. She threw the pad of paper on the floor and walked up to the startled gambler. "I been through things you can hardly imagine, seen things no one is meant to see! You have know right to say I don't know how it feels," and brushed past him.

He watched her retreating back and regretted the things he had said. 'Once again Ezra, your damn mouth got you into trouble.' But the more he thought about Melissa's words, the more he began to wonder. It had been a long time since he had seen Eric, and now that he thought about it, he remembered the changes he saw in him. Long gone was the sparkle in eyes, and although he seemed his easy going self, something was holding Eric back. Could his old friend be behind the entire thing? And if so why?

Melissa hadn't said a word to Ezra all night, and tried her best to keep her mind on her work. It was close to midnight, and the saloon was going to close in a few minutes. She glanced over at the far table, the form of Chris Larabee still sitting in the same place. As she walked over to his table, bracing herself from his anger she gently nudged him in the shoulder. No response. 

Josiah nodded at her. He was one of the last people in the saloon and understood what she was about to do. His acknowledgement told her that he would help if Chris caused any trouble.

"Chris?" she tried again. "We're closing up its time to go." 

Chris was emotionally drained and wasn't aware of the things going around him. He hadn't had a sip of alcohol for several hours; finally letting his emotions overwhelm him. The headache was tremendous, and Chris really wanted to go to bed but didn't have the motivation to actually get there. 

"Come on I'll take you back to your room," as she helped him up.

"People may talk," his voice course from a long day. 

Melissa smiled. "I don't care what other people think," and tugged at his arm, gently guiding him through the tables and into the night air. Chris was grateful for the help, though he'll be damned if he admitted it. 

Josiah was a little surprised Chris didn't put up a fight. So intent on the two of them, he didn't notice the shadowy figure rising from the bench outside, following the pair. 

A cool midnight breeze whipped through the darken streets of Four Corners. At this time of night, few people were about, except for the occasional drunk. Few people witnessed the two walking down the street or the shadowy figure behind them.

"Why?" Chris mumbled.

"Why what?" Melissa prodded as she grasped onto his arm to keep him from falling.

"Why do you have to leave Sarah? Why can't you stay?" his voice full of anguish, reliving a past he had yet to deal with.

Melissa looked into his eyes concerned. "Chris," she said as they stopped in the middle of the street and turned him around to face her. "It's me Melissa, not Sarah."

"Why? Why did ya leave?" he asked again. 

"Chris," she repeated and grasped his shoulders firmly, "it's Melissa. You're in Four Corners, remember?"

He rapidly blinked his eyes, the image before him morphing into a face long gone. For a brief moment, Sarah was standing in front of him, but reality set in as he took in the raven-colored hair. Sarah's had been brown. "Melissa I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mistake you…"

She smiled gently. "No need to be," she replied.

"Thank you," he said, grateful that he could talk to someone who could understand his feelings.

Melissa opened her mouth to reply when she felt it. Her head snapped up, but before she could make eye contact with the Immortal, a gunshot rang out in the night. 

Chris jerked his head, causing him a splitting headache, as he tried to search the shadows for the source of the shot. When Melissa squeezed his upper arm even tighter, he looked questionably down at her. Her eyes were unfocused and she began to waver. "Melissa?"

Their eyes met and a gurgled sound escaped her mouth. Chris felt warm liquid run over his hand, and when he lifted his hand to examine it he stared numbly. Blood. 

"Melissa?" he whispered as she became limp in his arms. "No…" as he held on to her tightly as she slid to the ground. Chris shifted his body as he knelt down next to her, cradling Melissa comfortably in his arms. "I'm so sorry… Nathan will be here…" he whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

She looked up at him and spoke softly, "No time… Don't be sorry Chris. Everything is going…to…be…fine." She gasped in pain then slowly let out her breath. Her head rolled aside, her eyes staring listlessly into the night sky. 

"No!" Chris yelled as hunched over the still form. He searched for a pulse but found none. Those caring eyes held no fire, no compassion. The woman he had come to trust over the past two weeks was gone. Chris lifted a callused hand and closed her eyes. Another life gone, another life gone because of him. How could fate treat him so unfairly? 'Am I forever doomed to lose the people I care about? Why can't I be left in peace?'

"Why?" he shouted in the night, "why can't you leave me in peace!"

"Why?" a voice echoed from the shadows of the nearby buildings. "You have to answer for your sins Chris Larabee."

"Who are you?" Chris yelled into the night. Incredible how fast a man can sober up. Though his headache tremendous, it was not important now; the mixture of alcohol and his grief over another senseless death overwhelmed him. 

Ten feet away, the gleam of gun shined in the moonlight. The figure stepped out of the shadows and approached the man who cradled the dead woman in his arms. "I am the demon that haunt your nightmares."

Ezra had finished closing up the saloon after Melissa left with Chris. He finished as quickly as he could so he could try to catch up with them. Ezra wanted to apologize for his earlier words and hoped to catch her after Melissa took Chris to his room. 

As he was locking the inner doors, he heard the gunshot. He looked up in time a figure slump to the ground and another dark form holding on the prone form. He recognized the long black trench coat of Chris Larabee, which would mean the other figure would be…

"Good Lord! Melissa!" 

As he rushed over to help the pair, another person came into view. He was holding a gun and smiled at the kneeling gunman. Ezra stopped in mid-stride when he recognized the familiar form holding the gun. 

"Eric?" stunned and took off in the their direction.

"You don't remember me, do you Chris Larabee? Pity. But I remember you. Think back… to the time when the Union Blue destroyed the South," his southern drawl dripping with fury.

Chris tried to get his mind to focus. An overwhelming feeling of hatred burned through him, as he struggled to place that face so lost to him. 'Twelve years ago was during the war,' he thought. His eyes widen in surprise as the mans features fell into place. The same hazel eyes as that young man he had shot in the back. Chris' mind reeled from the truth. "It can't be… you're… you're dead!"

LaContè offered him an intriguing smile. "Looks are deceiving ain't they?" LaContè laughed viciously, his gun never wavering from his target. "I've waited a long time for this Larabee."

"Eric, what in deities is going on?" Ezra asked, so shocked at the scene before him, he didn't even think of drawing his gun. His friend looked at him, and Ezra unconsciously stepped back; he had never seen his friend's face contorted in fury. 

"Well, well, well. If it ain't the conman. Come to say your respects?" Eric twisted mind proclaimed, his gun still aimed at Chris' head. Chris stared coldly at his tormenter but he couldn't draw his weapon. Even though he was quick, there was no way in hell he would be able to get a shot off in time since LaContè way too close.

Ezra did the only thing he could do. He activated his derringer and pointed it at his old friend. 

Eric immediately swung his arm at Ezra when he heard the sound. He smiled, that horrid, sick smile. He leered at Ezra daring him, approaching him with slow methodical steps. 

Chris gently laid Melissa on the ground, and slowly stood up, stunned at the scene before him. A dead man and a gambler, old friends now enemies. He couldn't let Ezra get hurt because of him. Too many people had sacrificed their lives for him, he wasn't about to let Ezra to be added to that list. Chris wanted answers and he would beat it out of LaContè when he had the chance. "How can it be you? You were dead."

LaContè never wavered, he didn't take his eyes of the gambler. "How ain't important. You're getting what you deserve Larabee. You destroyed my life. It's only fair that I destroy yours."

"Ain't my life enough? Ezra has nothing to do with this!" Chris yelled.

"Oh yes he does," LaContè answered and stared at his old friend. "You betrayed everything we use to believe in, how can you let this sinner live?"

"Although, Mr. Larabee has experienced the darker aspect of life, surely his sins do not deserve such a brutal attack," Ezra countered, his gun never wavering. 'How could I not detect how much he has changed. Look at him!'Eric's face looked haggard, the years of hatred taking a toll on his handsome features. 

"Doesn't deserve it! He burned down my home!" His smile got even wider. "As the good Lord said, 'Do unto others as they have done unto you.' Such lovely words." He smiled at the memory. "It was beautiful. The fire consuming your ranch Larabee. Smelled good too, all the burnin' wood."

Both men's jaw dropped to the floor. Did this man just admit he was the one who hired Fowler? Ezra shook his head as if the words would go away. "You're… you're the one that hired that man?" he managed to choke out.

"Of course!" his words cocky and arrogant. "He destroyed my plantation, I destroy his world," the happiness in his voice, sending a shock wave between the two men. "But I thought, why should Fowler have all the fun?"

Aghast, at his words, Chris took a step toward him. "Why you son of a…" Chris yelled, every muscle in his body tensing, his hands eagerly wanting to get around the man's throat. But he couldn't, at least not yet, not without putting Ezra in danger. Melissa already sacrificed her life, there was no need for Ezra to do the same.

Sadness and guilt filled Ezra's eyes. How could I have not see what he was up to? 'I should have done something. It all my fault.' "Eric," he tried to reason with him, "it was war, a horrible and devastating war. But it was supposed to be. What you are talking about is murder," Ezra stated, trying to talk some sense into his old friend. "I know how you feel…"

LaContè laughed a horrific, menacing laugh. "How could you know how I feel? You and your mother were in New Orleans! No one can possible know the devastation I felt when I saw everything I worked so hard for gone in one day!"

Ezra could not find the words to argue with him. But he couldn't let his friend continue his murderous rampage. "Lower the gun, Eric," Ezra's voice full of sadness, his soul crying for the man who had been dead for twelve years, "and I'll make sure that you'll get a fair trial."

"Like hell. You're gonna have to kill me first." His smile sent chills down Ezra's spine. "And the more you try the more I keep comin' back."

"Lower the gun Eric, please," Ezra asked again, his gun firmly in place. He didn't want to hurt his old friend. Eric had already been through so much, experienced great depths of pain, but that was no reason for murder. Ezra stole a glance to the still body on the ground, about ten feet away. He knew that Melissa was beyond Nathan's help. 'I never got to apologize. And it's my fault. All my fault.' 

Chris was still standing off to the side, his hand inching to remove his gun. His mind was still reeling from LaContè revelation. Here was the man who killed his family, yet he was powerless to do anything because he didn't want to risk Ezra's life. 

When the others heard the gun shot earlier, they came running out of their respective places. They too, heard the conversation between the former friends and they were also reeling from shock. None of them could get a clear shot at LaContè so they waited, tensely waiting for LaContè to make his next move. None of the six men expected what happened next. 

A small movement on the ground caught everyone's attention. Then suddenly the form jerked suddenly and sat up, disoriented. 

"Bloody hell," Melissa mumbled and held her head in her hands, the headache she was experiencing was more than she could take at the moment.

Everything that happen afterwards moved in slow motion for those witnessing the scene before them. Ezra for a fleeting moment, broke his concentration on Eric, surprised at the impossible becoming the possible. Chris gaped openly in shock as well, swearing the whisky was playing mind games on him. Eric took the window of opportunity and fired. His shot was soon followed by five bullets, two missing their mark since JD and Nathan rushed their shots, but the other three hitting their target. Vin's aim was clear and true, he shot LaContè directly in the chest, but by some miracle he was still standing. 

As the noise level dimmed, the men stared numbly at the center of the street.

Ezra stood still for a moment. At first he felt nothing and stared for a moment at the smoking gun of LaContè. Then he turned his head toward Chris, and seeing his look of horror, glanced down. Blood seeped through his clothing and droplets of blood began to fall on the dirt-packed ground. The two men looked at each other for a painful moment, each communicating their own sorrow at these turn of events. His knees began to buckle, and as Ezra collapsed to the ground, he felt two hands grabbing for him. 

Melissa blinked her eyes a couple of times and tried to get herself oriented. A blur of red caught her attention, looked up just in time as Chris moved to catch the falling gambler. "Ezra?" she whispered and slowly got on hands and knees, trying to catch her breath. The bullet caught her high in the chest and she winced with pain as the wound began to heal. 

LaContè stood there somewhat fazed as the bullets entered his body. He laughed as his gun fell to the ground. Even though he was now unarmed, it didn't stop him from carrying out his vengeance. He let out and exaggerated sigh and removed his sword from concealment. LaContè was about to take Chris' head when another gunshot rang out in the night. 

Melissa watched blankly as LaContè fell to the ground dead, her gun feeling heavy in her hands. Breathing heavily, she quickly pointed her weapon when she caught movement to right. 

"It's all right," his voice calm and soothing despite the chaos that reigned upon them. He slowly approached her, and removed the gun from her grip since she still looked a little confused. Josiah knew it would take a while for Melissa to gather herself.

"What…what happened?" she gasped.

The rest of the seven came out of their hiding places and Nathan hurried over to Chris who was still holding onto the fallen gambler. Tears were in his eyes; LaContè had taken away his wife and son, and now it looked like he was about to take away a member of his second family. Nathan placed his hands on Ezra's throat searching for a pulse. He breathed out in relief when he found one, but it was very faint. He met the eye of the people gathered around him waiting for his good or bad news.

"He's alive, but barely," he answered, "we need to get him to the clinic, now!"

Vin and Josiah moved in to help, but Chris was still grasping onto the gambler like he was his lifeline.

Buck placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Chris we need to get out of the way so Nathan can help him."

Chris stood up, and slowly followed the two men carrying the limp form of Ezra. Buck shivered as they headed to Nathan's clinic. Chris's face had a look he hadn't seen in years. It was the same haunted look that Chris carried around after the first year of Sarah's and Adam's death. "Get that trash to the undertaker," he ordered and silently followed Nathan to the clinic, hoping for a miracle.

"I'll take care of it," JD said quietly, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Melissa nodded at him and followed the others. Her concern for Ezra and Chris distracted her from thinking about the 'dead' Immortal. Even Josiah forgot about him as his concern for Ezra and Chris matched Melissa's.

JD got some help in dragging the carcass to the undertaker. He wanted to get it over as quickly as possible so he could join the others. He had a lot of respect for each of men. After losing the only family he had ever known, he chased his dream of coming out West. Little did he know that he would find a family so quick, and it broke his heart thinking he would lose another family member.

Vin and Josiah laid Ezra gently on the bed, as Nathan removed his coat. He quickly cut away at the vest and shirt. Those close to the bed gasped in horror at the amount of blood and damage the point blank bullet had done.

Melissa hurried over to bed, the others briefly rendered motionless at sight before them. "Damn…" she whispered as she saw the damage.

"I need everyone out," Nathan ordered. "Melissa, I need you to stay and help." 

"I ain't goin' anywhere," Chris stated firmly.

Josiah voice countered Chris' words, "Best if we be out of their way," he said, as Nathan quickly took the clean rags and began wiping away the blood on Ezra's chest, the rest of the men forgotten from the healer's mind.

"Everyone out…now," Melissa's stated in a voice that left no room for argument. They silently moved out, but not without a fleeting glance at the two people trying to save Ezra's life.

With most of the blood gone, Nathan could clearly see the damage the bullet had done. The scene was definitely not a pretty one. He had seen a lot during the war, but nothing like this. Nathan nervously wiped his hand across his forehead, removing the sweat that had formed there. As Nathan and Melissa gently rolled him on his side, Nathan began searching for an exit wound. He found no one and swore silently to himself.

"Bullet is still in there," Nathan stated grimly. "It's gotta come out."

Melissa cast a worried glance at Nathan and then at Ezra. He had grown extremely pale from the lost of blood and his breathing was starting to get shallow. "Nathan, I don't think he'll survive if you go prodding for that thing," concern in her voice."

"He'll die if I don't get that bullet out of him. It's gonna have to come out and I rather do it now."

She heard the determination in his voice. Nathan wasn't going to let his friend die that easily. Her mind was torn in two. Should she tell him the truth and save the trouble? Or should she see if Nathan could some how save his mortal life? Melissa looked down at Ezra. 'A life so young. What gives me the right to say how to live you life?' 

"Alright, what do you need me to do?"

The five men had been sitting on the porch for three hours, waiting for the news on their fallen friend. Josiah's mind raced on the implications of this night. Josiah wasn't sure how the others would react, and silently observed the four men.

Vin was sitting in his usual way, quiet and unassuming and looking like he was indifferent to the world. But Josiah saw the stiffness in his shoulders and Vin's blue eyes had lost some of their sparkle. Buck was as quiet as the tracker, the gravity of situation hitting him like a pounding wave. JD couldn't keep still, he kept walking back and forth, the thump of each step the only sound disrupting the stillness of the night. And Chris, he looked like he had been running around in hell and just returned from there. Josiah knew the next few hours would be crucial and he dreaded playing the waiting game.

Buck ran his hand over his face, stripping away his jovial attitude. He knew if Ezra didn't live, Chris would blame himself and Buck knew there was know way in hell Chris would be able to dig himself out. Another lost in his family and Chris would be devastated. He stole a glance at Chris and saw in his eyes how much he blamed himself for what happened. 

Chris sat numbly on the porch of Nathan's clinic. 'My fault, my fault, my fault,'he chanted over and over in his mind. He should have recognized LaContè earlier. If he did then this wouldn't be happening. 'How could I have not remember that bastard? But he was dead, me an' Buck we were so sure of it! Because of me Ezra is fighting for his life. His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened.'

Tired beyond his limit, Nathan regarded the group who was waiting for an answer. "I managed to take out the bullet, but there's a lot damage. It tore through his muscle, nicked a lung, and was about four inches from his spine. Lucky it didn't hit it or he could've been paralyzed from the waist down." He didn't say that he thought Ezra wouldn't make it through the night.

"He awake?" JD asked worriedly.

"He woke up for a moment but…" Nathan was interrupted as Chris pushed his way pass the healer. 

"Now hold on Chris…" the healer trailed off and walked back inside. The others followed.

Chris wanted to see Ezra for himself. He trusted Nathan's words but words were nothing like the real thing.

The black-clad gunslinger stopped dead in his tracks, appalled at the scene before him. Not expecting it Nathan slammed into Chris' back, but gunslinger barely noticed. He watched helplessly as Melissa hovered over the gambler, her hands resting above Ezra's slacken face and closed his eyes. She met Chris' first, her eyes were brimming with tears, crying for a mortal life ending and an Immortal life beginning. She could already sense the utter despair and grief on Chris' face as he waited for her to speak.

"He's gone," she said quietly but she might as well have shouted the phrase because those words were all the ones that rang loudly in Chris' mind.

He woke up groggily and found himself laying down on a hard surface. A sheet was masking his view and he quickly moved to remove it. LaContè sat up and remembered the events leading up to being taken to the undertaker. He didn't feel any Immortal nearby so he stood up. A crashing sound caused him to look at the doorway and he stared in the terrified eyes of the undertaker. Spying his sword at a nearby table, LaContè grabbed it and killed man with a single blow. 

LaContè picked up a rag off of the counter, wiped the blade and let it drift aimlessly to the floor. He walked toward the livery, moving with ease as if nothing had happened. LaContè had to come up with a new plan and he wanted to be as far away from Four Corners as possible. 'This isn't over Larabee.'

It may have been close to dawn but none of the men felt quite tired. Not after what Melissa said. Josiah let a small sigh escape his lips and ran a hand through his hair. He observed Nathan walking up to the bed and checking Ezra's throat to confirm or deny Melissa's statement. The healer shook his head in defeat. 

A slow rage flowed through Chris as he steadily gazed at the silent figure on the bed. He knew it was entirely his fault and he could feel the eyes of the others burning through his soul. He should have known better than let these men come into his life and change it around, even if it was for the better. 

The only sound in the room was the soft patter of Melissa's boots walking across the floor. She stood face to face him; daring Chris took look at her instead of the body on the bed.

"Chris, it's not your fault," she said, voicing the same thoughts as the rest.

Turning grief stricken eyes to the woman, he said, "Yes it is," his voice becoming harsh and laced with anger. "Just like it was my fault when I lost my family and now it's my fault….. it's all my fault that Ezra is dead!" The pent up rage, the frustration he felt exploded and he went on a murderous tirade, surprising her; Melissa fell back and tripped on one of the floorboards. Chris proceeded to knock everything off the dresser, sending medicine bottles and bloody rags to the floor. Vin moved in to try to calm his friend down, but his effort only earned him a punch in the face. As he stumbled backwards, he tripped over Melissa.

"Grab him before he hurts himself!" Nathan hollered as Chris threw a bowl out the window, shattering it into pieces.

Josiah grabbed Chris' swinging arm, and just as Chris tried to use his free hand to slap him, Buck grabbed it before Chris' hand met its mark. 

Chris continued to struggle against the men's grasp.

"Chris," Nathan yelled, "come on Chris snap out of it!" He grabbed Chris' face and forced him to look at him. "It ain't your fault! You couldn't have known, none of us could have!"

"It is my fault, I let him die," he bellowed, his voice cracking as he continued to struggle against Josiah and Buck's grip. But they held on to him tightly, so Chris used his legs and kicked the healer out of the way. 

"Come on buddy," Buck said, hoping to get through to the struggling man, "settle down!" 

"Please Chris! You have to listen to us. You couldn't have known what he was," Melissa yelled as she untangled herself from Vin.

"Known?" and Chris laughed. "I knew there was somethin' about him…. why, why didn't I do somethin'!" he yelled as he continued to struggle against his two friends. They were so busy trying to subdue the outraged gunslinger they failed to notice movement from the corner of the room. 

Josiah and Melissa stopped momentarily, the buzz of a new Immortal ringing through their heads and they glanced back at the bed. Ezra was sitting up, a confused expression dancing about his features.

"Good Lord," Ezra mumbled as a headache assaulted his entire being. "As if I had enough troubles for one day." He looked up, and noticed the commotion at the other side of the room. "Would you gentleman mind giving me some peace and quiet?"

Chris thought he was hearing things. It couldn't be Ezra's voice that he heard. But as Chris stopped struggling and saw the gambler standing up, a bit unsteady, he knew he wasn't hearing things. Nathan, Vin, Buck, and JD breathed out a sigh of relief as Chris calmed down, but they watched as Chris' eyes bulged out and mouth dropped open. In unison, they turned around to see what the deal was. Surprise was probably a mild word to describe the emotion they were feeling. 

Ezra grabbed the edge of the dresser to steady himself and faced the assembly in front of him. He was curious as to why his five friends looked so astonished. Heck, it looked like a feather could blow them over. 

"Might I inquire as to the cause of your perplexed expressions?" The five men couldn't find their voices for several minutes as Ezra waited expectedly.

"Ezra you're alive!" JD blurted out, happy that Melissa and Nathan had been wrong somehow. He practically started jumping up and down, and Buck slapped a hand on his shoulder to keep him from annoying the rest of the group.

"Well of course I am JD," Ezra replied and he winced as the headache continued.

Nathan regained his composure and stepped forward. "Ezra, you shouldn't be standin' or you're liable to find yourself faintin'."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Ezra asked, the events earlier that evening lost upon the gambler. "I feel quite reinvigorated," and he stretched his cramped muscles.

"Yeah, I bet you say that every time you take a bullet," Nathan to him, but stopped when curious threads of blue lightening flickered around the wound. All of them stared in amazement as the wound healed before their eyes and disappeared as if Ezra hadn't been shot in the first place. The stitches that held the wound together no longer served their purpose. Once again Nathan lost his voice.

Ezra fidgeted under their gaze. 'Why are they looking at me like that?' Ezra wondered. Then he noticed the men were not looking directly at his face but lower.

He finally looked down and saw the stitches that Nathan had put in. The memories came rushing back, Melissa dying, Eric's confession, and the feel of blood streaming out of his chest. But the wound was gone, the only evidence of it ever being there were the stitches. He raised his hand and touched them and felt that they were real. His face mirrored his comrades as he turned his attention back to the group.

"Will someone tell me what in tarnation is going on?!" as he gritted in pain as the headache continued in strength. "And why do I have this headache?" Ezra yelled as he messaged his temples.

Josiah broke away from the stunned group and approached him slowly. "Ezra, look at me," Josiah commanded, "look into my eyes."

Ezra did has he was told, and once he made eye contact the headache disappeared. 

What is the last thing you remember?" Josiah asked, his voice soothing and calm despite the events.

"I uh….." Ezra began, fumbling for words, a rare thing indeed. "I remember… being shot and then nothing." He again brought his hand up to his chest. "How this possible? I was shot just like….."

"Just like me," Melissa replied. Ezra's eyes widen in shock as he faced the Immortal woman. He shook his head as if he was in a dream, but as the apparition walked toward him and touched his arm, Ezra knew it was no dream. "Everything you saw tonight was real Ezra. The bullet wound was real. And you, Ezra Standish, died."

Ezra laughed at the impossibility. "I must confess, that is an amusing tale, yet here I stand conversing with you gentleman."

"Then how do you explain what you saw, what you felt?" Josiah asked. "The bullet tearing through you? You died your first death Ezra," Josiah said as laid a comforting hand on Ezra's shoulder. "You're Immortal," he said simply.

"Then I suppose I'm Abraham Lincoln, too," Ezra replied sarcastically.

Josiah couldn't help but to smile. Even after a traumatic experience, Ezra was still the sarcastic one. "You have to believe us, Ezra," he paused as he turned to the rest of the group, "and so do you fellas. Because from this point on, the life you knew will never be the same." 

It was so early in the morning, but Josiah knew none of the men could rest without an explanation. "Look, it's going to take a while for me and Melissa to explain everything, so why don't we do this in more comfortable surroundings?"

"How about the saloon?" Melissa spoke up.

"Saloon it is. Mind if ya go an' open it back up?" Josiah asked looking into her brown eyes.

"No problem," Melissa replied easily, and then pulled on her shirt. She had taken off her coat while she was helping Nathan. "And I'm going to change. I'll see you guys over there." She picked up her coat from the chair in the corner, making sure the sword concealed there stayed concealed. Melissa left the small clinic leaving with the answers the men so desperately needed.

The five men parted and let Melissa through. It was then that they noticed the amount of blood on the back of her shirt. In the aftermath, all of the men had forgotten that Melissa had been shot. It wasn't that they didn't care, it was just their concern was concentrated somewhere else. Chris rubbed his hands absentmindedly, remembering the feel of Melissa's blood running over his hands. Nathan took in the amount of blood and wanted to go after her to check to see if she was all right. The healer in him knew that no one could be standing, let alone alive, after so much blood loss.

"Leave her be, Brother Nate," Josiah shouted to the healer, "she'll be fine."

"But how?" Nathan questioned, as he paused in the doorway looking out at the retreating woman. He turned questioning eyes to Josiah. "How is it possible?" 

"The answers, my friends, are out there." Josiah replied. He turned to Ezra who still looked a little confused. "Come on Ezra, let get you dressed so y'all curiosity can be put to rest."

Chris observed the two conspirators. They obviously knew more about this than any of them and the facts were clear as crystal. There was no doubt in his mind that Melissa was dead, and Ezra was sitting up with no indication of ever being shot. Yet he witnessed the bullet enter his body and he was sure so had the others. "Alright, lets take this to the saloon," his voice coarse as he made his way out the door and headed toward the saloon.

Chris turned the ex-preacher, a strange mix of hatred and curiosity burning in his eyes. "You better have a good explanation for all of this," he seethed and walked out. The others traded glances and silently followed Chris to the saloon. 

Vin, Buck, and JD followed; their emotions hard to gauge at the moment. They were happy that Ezra was alright but also bewildered by the events. Nathan stayed behind with his patient and helped Ezra up. Ezra attempted to take a step forward but wobbled slightly

Sensing Nathan's question Josiah said, "Go on Nathan, we'll follow ya in a moment."

Josiah bent down and picked up a knife off of the floor. He moved his hands toward Ezra's chest with the intention of cutting away the stitches but the gambler relflexedly backed away not wanting to be harmed.

"Easy, brother," Josiah said softly, "I'm just gonna cut these away; you don't need them anymore." Before Ezra could object Josiah quickly cut away the stitches and threw them away. Ezra expected he start bleeding again but nothing happened. Ezra ran his hand across his chest, feeling the smoothness of it. He felt no scar or any trace that he had been shot. Ezra looked up when Josiah handed him a shirt. 

"What's going on Josiah? What happened to me?" Ezra asked, his voice quiet and full of wonder because of the strange events going on around him.

"Don't worry Brother Ezra, Melisssa and I will answer your questions to the best of our ability. The others are waitin' for us." 

He took the shirt from Josiah and proceeded to button it up." My, this article of clothing as such a primitive feel to it," he managed to say. After all he was used to silk shirts not cotton ones.

Josiah couldn't help but laugh. The past day had been rough on all of them and it felt good to laugh. "Better not let Nathan hear ya say that." He paused for a moment quietly contemplating how much Ezra's life would change after this moment, how all their lives where going to change. "Remember who you are Ezra. Cause in this Game we play, one can easily lose one's self." He waited outside the door leaving the gambler with that piece of advice. 

Chris Larabee walked toward the saloon, his mind running with so many different questions. How was it possible for a dead person to revive? Josiah said it was possible because Ezra was an Immortal. Did it mean that Melissa is also and Immortal? And how did Josiah fit into the scheme? So many questions and only two people could answer them. 

He angrily knocked the batwing doors causing it to bang loudly on the walls. Melissa was no where in sight so he figured she must have opened the place up then gone to change. He stalked over to the bar grabbed a bottle, and immediately poured himself a drink.

The others sat down and poured a shot for themselves. JD wasn't a heavy drinker, but he quickly gulped down two shots, letting the burning sensation tear down his throat. For several minutes, there wasn't a sound in the room, each person lost in their own thoughts. 

Again the batwing doors opened, more gently this time, as Josiah and Ezra made their way into the quiet saloon. The men couldn't help to but smile since Ezra was wearing one of Nathan's shirts. He looked uncomfortable in it and Buck was about to make a comment when Ezra suddenly snapped his head about, his face set in confusion. The men noticed Josiah had the same reaction.

Vin frowned slightly at the two men. Ever since Melissa had arrived in Four Corners, she and Josiah had been doing that every time they came close to each other and now Ezra was doing the same thing. As he expected, Melissa walked through the doors. 

She first made eye contact with Josiah, then Ezra, dissipating the Buzz back to a low background noise. "Gentlemen," she greeted the group. She settled down in a nearby chair and wondered how to begin.

"Alright, how?" Chris barked, barely giving time for Josiah and Ezra to take their seats. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

Josiah and Melissa traded glances. How to begin? How could they explain to these men? "We simply don't know," Josiah began. "Only the Lord knows how. Mankind does not dictate who is and isn't an Immortal."

"What we do know, is stories that have been passed down for centuries, of how Immortals came to be," Melissa said as she leaned back in her chair.

"And what are those stories?" Buck softly, his voice serious.

It seemed for a moment that Melissa retreated into herself, recalling stories told to her long ago. When she spoke, her voice was soothing, taking a tone as if she was telling a story to a child. "For as long as Man as lived, Immortals have walked the earth. In a sense we are human, but not quite. We start out as any human does, as babies, then as children, living our lives as anybody else would. Until our first death, we get can sick, and if we are wounded by a gunshot or knife, our wounds take the normal time to heal." Melissa removed a knife from her boot. She placed her hand on the table, palm up. "But for an Immortal, none of this applies." She quickly sliced her hand, a thin red line appeared. For several moments nothing happened.

As the six men watched threads of blue lightening danced about her hand, mesmerizing the group. It was the same phenomenon as they had seen dancing across Ezra's chest. She wiped her hand with a handkerchief lifted her hand for them to examine. . "But after our first death, we never grow older, never succumb to sickness, and our wounds will heal."

Nathan gingerly reached out to touch the place were Melissa had cut herself. "Amazing," Nathan breathed out. Her hand looked the same as always, he did even see a hint of a scar. His mind racked with the possibilities. "This could turn medical science into new….."

"Absolutely not," Josiah intoned.

"Why?" Nathan asked shocked. Out from anyone sitting the table he would have thought his friend would agree. A world in which he would have the ability to heal; a universal medicine that could heal anything. 

"Because Nathan," Melissa replied as she replaced the knife in her boot, "we would become pawns. Side-show freaks, treated in same respect many people treat the Indians."

"I would never do that," Nathan replied vehemently.

"Melissa and I know that," Josiah said. "But what if others found out? We can't take that risk. Too many times in human history have Man scorned things they do not understand."

Nathan nodded understanding what Josiah was trying to say. He remembered all too well the incident with Chanu a couple of months ago. Blinded by the hatred by the death of Claire Mosely, most of the townspeople were ready to torch the Indian village, without full knowledge of the truth.

"So, no matter what if and Immortal is cut, shot, beaten to death, _anything_," Nathan said, "and dies…."

"They can still revive," Josiah responded. "An Immortal could be full of holes and still revive. Grant it, it will take longer."

"Unless of course," Melissa smiled ruefully, "if you lost limb, you can kiss it goodbye because it ain't going to regenerate."

Chris' chiseled features started relaxed a little as he digested what these two were saying. Immortality. His thoughts turned to his family. If their story were true, and how could it not be with the evidence before his eyes, a person could live forever without any fear. He would get to see his wife's beautiful smile each day, and she would be as beautiful as the first time he met her. Damn it, how he wished this gift could be bestowed on his dead family. 

While this was going through Chris' head, Ezra leaned forward and grabbed the whisky bottle in front of him. The implications of what Josiah and Melissa were telling him were shocking. He would live forever? He knocked back the burning liquid and tried to pick a question dancing about his head.

"So, am I to assume that my health will never waver from this point on? I will never contract somethin' like scarlet fever?"

"No, you won't," Josiah replied. "Your fingers will be nimble as the they are now, so you could cheat someone even if your two hundred years old."

This earned chuckles from the group, even though a bit strained. The concept of Immortality for each of them was a bit hard for each of the men to grasp, but yet, there were two people in front of them who seemed to be living with this for a long time. One of which they trusted with their lives, who backed them up, time and time again since the Seminole village. The other, a person whom the men learned to call a friend over the past two weeks.

Vin smiled as he watches his friends' react to what Josiah said. But then his brow creased in confusion as he took in what Josiah had said. 'Even if your two hundred years old?' Just how old was Josiah? And Melissa for that matter. Vin leaned forward in his seat. "How old are you?"

Vin's smooth Texan drawl cut down all amused chuckles. Josiah clenched his jaw, and Melissa bit the inside of her cheek and squirmed slightly in her seat.

"Don't waste any time do ya boys?" Josiah knew there was no way around it so he replied, "I was born in 76 AD."

The two older Immortals were the only ones who's jaw didn't drop to the floor.

Melissa laugh was deep and throaty. It amused her to no end people's reaction to some Immortal's ages. "I'm thinkin' I see some flies goin' in their mouth's. How about you Josiah?"

"I reckon I see a couple," Josiah smiled as he took a sip of his beer.

"You mean you're….you're…." JD mumbled over and over. He could picture anyone could live that long.

"Over eighteen centuries old," Josiah finished. "But, some could call me a baby compared to Melissa," and the men turned to Melissa waiting for her answer.

"Gee, thanks Josiah," she said sarcastically. "Remember I can still whip you into next year," she threatened jokingly.

Melissa breathed in deeply and mumbled her age. She rarely liked to tell people of her age because headhunters would love to claim a Quickening as strong as hers. And since she just taken Hunter's head a few weeks ago, her Quickening was twice as strong.

Vin, who was sitting next to her, was the only one who heard her. He tried to move his mouth in some semblance of a remark but couldn't quite do it. The five men looked very confused as Vin continued try to say something.

"I've been around for 4,000 years," she replied a little louder. She eyed each of them, trying to gauge their reactions. Melissa smiled inwardly at their faces. 'If I can only freeze their reactions.' "Give or take a couple of centuries."

For several moments, not a word was uttered among the group. Between Josiah and Melissa, they had seen almost 6,000 years worth of history. Six thousand years of pain, grief, and misery; yet also six thousand years of joy and happiness.

"Look there's a fly!" Josiah said, and Melissa almost gagged on her drink.

"You weren't exaggerating when you said you've seen a lot," Ezra stated quietly, remembering the conversation he and Melissa had earlier.

Melissa ran her hand through her hair, her eyes taking a definite sadness. "No, I wasn't," her earlier good humor lacking in her voice.

"Good Lord." Ezra closed his eyes; the implications of what Josiah and Melissa were saying overwhelmed him. "I'll be that old," the gambler mumbled, more to himself than to the group.

Josiah sighed deeply. This was going to be the part that he didn't think Ezra would swallow too well. "That is if you don't die first."

"Wait a minute, I thought you said Immortals live forever?" Chris barked, his voice edged with a tint of sadness. He couldn't shake the image of Sarah and Adam from his mind and the possibility he could be with them forever. He held some bitterness that these three didn't have to worry about dying. Now, he learned that Immortality didn't come without a heavy price.

Josiah clenched his jaw. "There is one way we can die. And that is if our heads are severed from our bodies."

"Excuse me?!" Ezra exclaimed, his flowery language and poker face lost on those few words Josiah had said. Killing a person with a gun was one thing, but decapitation? Ezra shuddered at the mere thought and so did the others.

"Ain't that a bit harsh?" Buck proclaimed. The picture that Josiah painted for him wasn't too pretty.

"Not in the Game we Immortals play," Melissa answered.

"Game? What game?" Nathan asked, his voice betraying the shock he was experiencing.

"Our so-called purpose in life. Immortals fight each other in ritual combat," Josiah said, picking up were Melissa left off. "In the end, there can be only one."

"So I'm going to have to fight other Immortals, _decapitate_ them, just to keep my head?" Ezra asked incredulously. He couldn't believe what these two were telling him. Immortality he could understand, living forever and never growing old he understood. But to have to fight to keep one's head, he didn't understand that. Ezra slid his poker face back into place which took some effort. "I'm sorry, but that is something I must decline," he responded as he begun to make a hasty retreat. The air seemed cold to him, and the thought of his bed and sinking into its warm depths comforted him.

He was barely out his chair, when he felt a cool metal against his neck. Melissa had also arisen and barely giving the men time to blink, whipped out her sword from her coat. "I'm afraid Ezra you don't have a choice," her normally comforting voice had taken an sharp edge and her brown eyes had a dark predatory look. Not unlike Chris the rest of the men noticed. 

"As an Immortal, others can sense your presence. That headache you had earlier is what we call the Buzz and all Immortals feel that every time one of us is close. We fight one on one with swords. And I guarantee you, there are those out there who don't care if you are ready for combat or not."

The others reacted with awe and shock. She was so quick, none of them saw the sword coming. Vin noted Melissa's sword bore a remarkable resemblance to the sword that Nathan used a couple of days earlier during the mock fight, the difference in the eyes of the dragon. The men realized that Melissa had to be holding back her experience at that time. It was then that they knew Josiah and Melissa were down right serious. 

Josiah stood up and removed his Crusader sword and carefully laid it out on the table. They hadn't even notice where the sword came from and it became obvious to the group, the two of them carried their swords with them at all times. 

Chris reached out to touch the sword as if to reassure himself that these two were not lying. It was a two-handed sword, the hilt simply carved in wood and bronze, as simple as the man who wielded it. He should have known that every action came with a price. His action to stay with Buck an extra day three years ago resulted in the death of his family. His failure to recognize an old ghost caused the death of a friend, and now his gambler friend would be fighting to just keep his head. He trusted Josiah's word but something in the kept gnawing at him, a gut feeling that there was something wrong about this whole situation. 

"Brother Ezra, a sword can be your closest companion, or your worst enemy. It can save your life or it can take it away from you. Melissa was my teacher long ago; she taught me the rules of the Game and how to survive. And she is your only hope if you want to live."

Melissa removed the sword from his neck and laid on the table, creating a cross configuration with Josiah's own sword. "It your choice Ezra. Do you want to live or do you want to die?"

The entire group held their breath waiting for an answer.

Ezra examined the cards dealt to him. He was Immortal. He would never age and he would never get sick. But the luxury didn't come without a price. He had fight to survive. He had to fight with a sword. Carefully he picked up Melissa's sword and studied the blade intently. The sapphire eyes of the dragon winked at him, as if inviting him to touch the beautiful, yet deadly, work of art. It was cool to the touch, and as he ran his finger along the edge, he cut his finger. Ezra winced slightly and watched with awe as the wound sparked for a moment and healed. It was only the second time he had witnessed it and it amazed him. 

He wasn't sure if could take a life, at least in the way that Josiah and Melissa described, but he didn't have a choice. Ezra wanted to live. There was only one way that his life could be assured. "I suppose being under the tutelage of a woman who is proficient at sword fighting would not be strenuous to my health," he finally responded softly as he laid the sword back on the table. 

The roguish gambler smiled widely, "after all, it was under the tutelage of an 'amazing woman' that got me where I am today," Ezra said, using the same words that the seven had a tendency to refer to his Mother.

Laughter rang out through the quiet saloon; though Melissa looked at the assembly strangely since meaning of those words were lost on her.

As the laughter died down, Josiah spoke up, his voice becoming serious. "What is said here, must not leave this room."

"Then why tell us?" JD asked.

"Because you deserve to know. You couldn't deny what happened it front of your eyes and we just couldn't explain it away by sayin' it was a miracle," Melissa responded.

There were chorus of agreements. These men survived by their instincts. Lies would have not gotten them anywhere because the reason they worked so well is that they trusted each other. 

The Immortal woman smiled softly. Outside, the sky was just starting to turn shades of orange and red. Dawn had come. She was tired and JD's yawn did not escape her eye. She was somewhat surprised they did barrage her or Josiah with questions but she suspected that would come later. Melissa picked up her sword and tucked it back in her coat. "Gentlemen, I her my bed calling. I think we should close the saloon for today. What do you think?" she asked directing her question to her partner.

Ezra nodded in agreement. When Melissa mention 'bed' he felt sleep tugging him. "That would seem the best course of action."

"Well then good night fellas," the Immortal woman said.

"You mean morning," Josiah corrected her.

She waved him away like a bad odor. "Mere technicalities," and she headed for the door. The rest of the men stayed behind quietly talking to themselves.

"Yeah, who knew LaContè would turn out to be a bad apple, shoot Ezra and then have him pop back up like a groundhog," Buck kidded, leaning back in his chair.

Chris' gut feeling suddenly became stronger at Buck's mention of LaContè and as he saw how Josiah and Melissa reacted, he quickly stood up.

"Sweet God Almighty," Josiah swore, as he bolted out of his chair causing it to crash to the dusty floor. Melissa was already out the door and Josiah was hot on her heels.

"Was it somethin' I said?" Buck questioned, as the others followed the retreating pair.

Melissa ran like hell over to the undertaker's. 'How could I have forgotten?' Josiah was not far behind. Melissa grabbed the doorknob and tried to twist in around a couple of times. The door was locked. "Damn!"

Josiah appeared beside her and seein' the problem said, "Allow me," then kicked down the door. It was dark inside, the first rays of sunlight barely piercing the dark interior. Both of them couldn't feel the other Immortal and their fears grew. 

Chris burst through the doors along with others. "JD, go find some lanterns," he ordered. JD ran back to the saloon grabbed the ones already lit and headed back to the undertaker's. JD never did like coming in here. It was a cold reminder of his mother's death and how he had been the only one to take care of the preparations. The musty smell drifted in nose and he fought to stay calm.

JD handed one to Chris and the other to Josiah. The group made their way around darken room but found nothing. Chris was beginning to get an idea of what they were looking for. LaContè's body. Vin went to open the door to the back room and Josiah went in first. He didn't see anything at first, so he made his way deeper into the room. The others followed.

JD began to breathe hard. He felt claustrophobic in the darken room even with the reassuring light from the lanterns. He stepped into something sticky; he could feel it clinging to his boots. As he stepped back his stained boot encountered something soft and he yelped out in surprise.

"What is it son?" Josiah asked as he hurried over to the kid's side and stopped when he saw what JD was standing in. His lantern revealed the mangled body of the undertaker and JD standing in a pool of blood. 

"Come on JD," Buck meandered to his friend's side, "let's get you outside." Buck placed a comforting arm around the younger man's shoulders and gently guided JD outside for some fresh air.

A quick search revealed the undertaker's body was the only one present. 

"Of all the rotten luck!" Melissa exclaimed, and began to walk back and forth in the room. 

"Where is he?" Chris seethed, directing his question to the Immortal woman.

"Chris…. I'm sorry. LaContè is an Immortal. He must have slipped out while we were at the clinic." 

"You should have said somethin'!" The black-clad gunslinger stepped closely to her. "You should have told us about your kind long ago," his voice low and menacing.

Melissa was undeterred. " I was a little distracted at the time tryin' to save Ezra's life!" she shouted, he anger getting the best of her. 

"He would have become one you!"

"His mortal life, Chris, his mortal life," countered, her eyes narrowing to tiny slits. "He deserves to live as much as possible a normal life. As much as a wish it wasn't, the Gathering is upon us, something which no Immortal can escape."

"Fellas, this ain't getting' us no where," Josiah interjected.

"I'm going after him," Chris replied breaking the tension that had escalated in the small room and he turned and stalked out of the darken room. 

"Chris wait," Melissa exasperated, regaining control over her emotions.

"What's a Gathering?" Vin drawled as Melissa brushed passed him.

"Later," was the terse reply and Josiah followed his friends.

Chris walked with a purposeful step towards the livery. He had no idea how to find LaContè all he knew he was going to kill the bastard when he found him, Immortal or not. 

"Chris!" Melissa yelled and she grabbed his arm, just outside of the barn's doors. He turned around to face her, anger and hatred dominant on his chiseled features. "Did you hear what I said? LaContè _is_ an Immortal. The only way he can die is if you decapitate him."

"Then he's gonna be missin' his head," he replied heatedly and wretched himself from her grip. He turned to walk inside, however, Josiah blocked his path.

"Think you can do that Chris?" Josiah asked. "Takin' a head is a whole lot different that killin' a man with a bullet. Do you think you can actually walk up to him and bring a sword down on his neck?"

"He killed my family!"

"You're no match for him Chris," Josiah countered, ignoring Chris' outburst and concentrating on convincing him to back down. Both men stared into each other's eyes, each keeping their ground.

Suddenly Chris crumpled, and Josiah was quick to grab him. Melissa occupied the space Chris was formally in.

"He ain't gonna be happy when he wakes up," he told her as Nathan moved in to check if Chris was okay.

"I rather have him angry at me then dead from LaContè's hand," she countered. 'Grant it he'll be Immortal but he deserves to live his mortal life out.' Melissa rubbed her face wearily. The day didn't look too promising. "LaContè won't go away. He has some unfinished business. Ezra, we gonna start your start your training later. But for now, my bed beckons me." 

The six men stared at her retreating back. Amazing how their world was turned upside down by a single event. Of course it was nothing new. One incident, back in the Seminole village, formed a bond that changed each of the seven's lives. They had found a family in each other and a home in Four Corners. Trouble always seemed to attract the seven men, and now they were thrown in the Immortal world.

Josiah carefully cradled the Chris in his arms and his head rest comfortably against his shoulders. "I'll take Chris to his room and I suggest y'all get some rest. The town will keep," and he headed over to the boarding house. 

There nods of agreement and the men went their separate ways, each thinking about a secret they were entrusted with and how they could help those who already live with it.

Ezra decided to go with Josiah, this Immortal business was new to him and he felt a bit apprehensive left alone. He also still had some questions about his new status. The gambler leaned against the doorpost and watched as Josiah tucked Chris into bed. Ezra began to blame himself for what had happened. If maybe he had gotten the story straight about his old friend's demise, Chris wouldn't be grieving so hard for his family. Maybe his family would still be alive. 'Even when he is asleep he looks so much older,'Ezra thought.

Finish with his task, Josiah went to stand by Ezra at the door. "He'll be alright, he just needs some time." Sometimes it was hard for him to gauge the gambler's emotions. Even now, Ezra's face looked somewhat detached. But the dead give away to how Ezra truly felt was his eyes. Josiah always felt the eyes couldn't hold back anything. He saw the concern in those emerald eyes.

"It's all my fault. If I had known…."

Josiah cut him off. "You couldn't have known. So don't go blamin' yourself for somethin' you have no control over." He indicated they should leave and continue the conversation elsewhere.

"I've known Eric since my childhood. He had always been a determined person, never wavering from what he wanted." Ezra let out a small smile. "I remember he never did stop courting Miss Mattingly, and then finally one day, she became his wife. 

Now look at what he's become," he said dejectedly. "No higher then those miscreants who attempt to cheat me at poker." He sat down heavily on steps outside of the saloon. "There is a part of me that wants to tear up the man who did this our tortured leader."

"But…" prodded the ex-preacher.

"I don't know if a can kill him. Takin' a head?" The thought still made him cringe. "Why Josiah do Immortals have to play this Game? Can't we just live and elated to be living?"

Josiah sat down next to him and explained to him a bit further. "Remember when I said there can be only one?" When the gambler nodded, he continued. "The Gathering is upon us. It is the reason we fight one on one, to gain the other's Quickening or life essence. The blue lightening you saw is the Quickening inside of you and contains a person's power and knowledge."

"So the last Immortal has all the knowledge and power of every Immortal that has ever lived," Ezra deduced.

"Correct. And that Immortal wins the Prize."

"Which is?"

Josiah shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know."

"That is certainly a motivation," Ezra smiled ruefully. He looked out at the street. "No one knows?"

"Not even Melissa knows and she's one of the oldest Immortals around." The two them settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts. Slowly the town began to wake up, people going about their business completely unaware of the secret life that Josiah and Melissa had been living. And now Ezra realized he was included in that secret life and would have to keep his Immortality from townspeople. How could they understand while Ezra was just beginning to understand himself? 

As the seven were getting some needed rest, there was one man who wasn't. Not far from the town of Four Corners a tall handsome man leaned back on a fallen log and calmly lit a cheroot. He blew a thin trail of smoke in air, all the while thinking of who he could use as leverage over the seven. LaContè wanted Chris' head and no damn person was going to get in his way. It was obvious to him that Chris Larabee cared for each of the seven greatly and would lay down his life down for them. But the more LaContè thought about it, he discarded the remaining seven as one of his targets. He couldn't see how he could distract one of them long enough to get close. LaContè had observed their comings and goings for the past few days, and they rarely left each other's company.

Then an idea formed in his mind, one that was just downright as vicious as he was. A faint smile creased his features, and he lazily puffed on his cheroot, while gazing about the countryside. He would have his revenge, soon enough.

__

My head hurts. That was the first coherent thought that entered Chris' mind as he slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight was streaming through the curtains and he slowly sat up.

"Didn't think you'll sleep all day pard," said a smooth Texan drawl. From the corner of the room, Vin leaned forward in his chair. "How you feelin'?"

"Like a freight train barreled down on me," Chris replied, and winced slightly since his head throbbed. "What the hell happened?"

"The boys thought is wise you get some rest after the incident this mornin'."

Chris tried to remember what happened but his mind was drawing a blank. "What incident?"

"You know, LaContè, Ezra, and…" he paused for a moment, " Immortals." 

Then Chris remembered. LaContè had confessed to the murder of his wife and son. Ezra was an Immortal and so were Josiah and Melissa. 'Wasn't LaContè one too?' "Where is she?"

There was only one person that Chris could be talking about. "Down in the at the church with Josiah."

Chris quickly got up and grabbed his gunbelt and his coat, not bothering to change his clothes from the night before. He made his way over to the church that Josiah had been restoring since their first meeting with Vin not far behind him. The townspeople stayed far away from him; even from a distance they saw he was in an extremely bad mood and it was best to stay away.

The doors of the church were wide open as if beckoning a person to enter the place of worship. A place to let go all a person's hurt and anger, a place to ask for forgiveness.

But not today. Today Chris felt a rage of hurt, and he wasn't about to let go. He stood formidably in the doorway staring hard at the two people who had been chatting amiably.

Both of them glanced up when the sensed a foreboding presence looking straight at them. A pair of cold green eyes glared fiercely from underneath a dusty black hat.

"Umm. . . hi Chris," Melissa said. She was somewhat taken aback by the intensity in his green eyes.

"Hello," was the one word reply. The greeting never sounded so chilling.

"What can I do for you?" her conversation with Josiah well forgotten.

Chris slowly approached her, never breaking his gaze with the Immortal woman. "Why?"

"You were going to get yourself killed," she replied simply, her voice underlying the concern she felt, "and I'll be damned if I let that happened."

His spurs clicked on the hardwood floor as Chris came closer. His gaze was harsh and ugly, his voice matching his mood. "You had no right."

Melissa looked at him incredulously, and was starting to get a little angry with him. "Let me get this straight." She started to pace back and forth. "LaContè is an Immortal. He's skilled at sword fighting. He could probably kill you easily." She stopped in tirade, placed her hands on her hips and stared harshly at him. "And I had no right to stop you from getting killed. Is there something wrong with this train of thought?"

"He is *my* problem."

She looked at him, disbelief in her eyes. Didn't he realize there were people around him that would ride to hell with him and back? Six people who had come to respect him, to trust him; was he so blind with his own hatred to not see it?

Her brown eyes darken with anger and her voice grew increasedly cold with every word. "Let me tell you somethin' Chris Larabee. *You* are not the only affected by all of this. There is at least one person sitting in his room, feeling guilty over what happened tonight and wondering what he did to deserve it." Melissa calmly walked toward him and stood nose to nose with him. Not a lot of people had the guts to face down the wrath of Chris Larabee, but Melissa had her own share of pain and heartbreak; she wanted him to know that he was not alone in his grief.

Melissa's voice became softer. "You know what Chris? Ezra did absolutely nothing, it just happened. *Life* happens. And there is not a damn thing we can do about it. LaContè is not just only your problem Chris, it's all of ours. Because in some way, it effects each and everyone of us, not just you." She turned away and headed toward the open doors, leaving a somewhat stunned Chris Larabee behind.

Without looking back, she spoke softly into the cool afternoon air; "There are six men here you will ride to hell and back with you." She turned around to look at him, her eyes meeting his confused green ones. "It's not a journey you have to go alone," she whispered in the air and walked away.

Chris stood there stunned. The silence was broken as Josiah said, "Vin, can Chris and I talk for a minute?"

Silently, Vin brought up two fingers, lightly touched his hat brim and made his departure.

Chris stood ramrod to the floor, contemplating what had just been said. 'Six men that would ride to hell with him and back. A journey that I don't have to go alone.'Chris knew a part of him was torn away when his family died. But what he didn't realize until now that the hole had been somewhat filled. Filled with six men that became more that friends to him, they became family. And he almost lost one last night. If it weren't for this Immortality business, his life would have been shattered again by a tragic loss. Since when did the gambler find a place in his heart? 

"Why don't ya sit down Chris?" Josiah said, interrupting his leader's thoughts. Chris sat down on a well-worn out bench, and Josiah watched him intently. 

"You know," Josiah began, "friendship is a special thing, it has it's ups and downs, but the one thing that is constant is that friends are always there for you." He smiled and said, "and it doesn't matter that if your ya stubborn mule Chris, most of us are. Which is why we will keep doggin' you."

"I don't deserve it," Chris mumbled, "look what my friendship brings to the people I care about. My wife and son are dead, Ezra is one of you…" 

"Now hold on Chris," Josiah interrupted, "that wasn't you're fault. Ezra was destined to become an Immortal. It doesn't matter when or how, it just is." Josiah gazed out the small windows. "I'm not proud of my past Chris, all of us have those demons that haunt us. I have been looking for a road that would lead me to my salvation, have been for almost 400 years. It's been a long journey, and I didn't always take the right path. But then I wandered here, and there was something tangible in the air… something that said this is where the journey begins."

Chris sat there silently, listening to Josiah's baritone voice built in strength, gaining more conviction, as if this was a journey he truly believed in.

"We were destined to ride together Chris. Seven men, with one destiny." 

"But what if that road is through hell?" Chris asked, his voice choked with emotion. He knew seven of them were family, but then Chris realized it went beyond that. Their paths were intertwined. Until Josiah actually said it, he didn't believe in it. 

He stood up and laid a gentle hand on the gunslinger's shoulder. "Where ever the road take us." 

The tracker moved through the busy streets of Four Corners with ease. Vin found himself lost in thought; had been for the last day or so. Something about this Immortality business made him uneasy. He was in such deep thought he didn't notice the loose board until he tripped over it.

"Oughta watch where you're goin'," said an amused female voice.

For a brief moment Vin caught the immense pain hidden beneath the depths of her dark chocolate eyes. "Didn't know you were so poetic."

Melissa gave a half-smile. "I don't try to be," she replied so softly that Vin barely caught it. She looked down at the floorboards. "I've lost a lot of good friends over the centuries." 

Vin watched her silently. The life Immortals had to lead couldn't be kind-hearted to the soul. To live with the burden of seeing loved ones grow old and die couldn't be easy. At first, Vin thought Immortality was the perfect fountain of youth. But as Josiah and Melissa went into more depth about it, the more frightening it seemed to him.

"You want a drink?" Vin drawled.

Melissa got up and stretched her legs, her mind turning away from morbid thoughts. "Yeah," she replied. "You know I found a stash of good whisky hidden behind the bar?"

The tracker chuckled. "Sounds like Ezra is up to his old tricks." He furthered explained since Melissa looked confused. "Ez, use to own the place; he would hide the good stuff from the rest of us."

"Well," Melissa said smiling, "I'm co-owner of the place, so I say we can have a drink. And if he says anythin' differently, he'll regret it at our practice later," she said as he pretended to wield a sword in the air.

Vin also smiled at her comment, his sky blue eyes twinkling. 'Nope their lives is never easy, but at least it's entertaining,'he thought as he followed her to the saloon.

Ezra Standish sat quietly at one of the tables in the saloon. The place seemed eerily quiet without the hustle of people moving about, and music flowing freely from the old piano off to the side. The saloon was a place where his life revolved around, a place where fortunes were made or lost.

He deftly shuffled the cards between his fingers, then flicked one of them toward his black-crowned hat on the floor. It fluttered through the air and narrowly missed the target. Ezra leaned forward and picked the card off of the floor. He paused for a moment as he glanced the upturned card. The Ace of Spades. A card he believed, described him perfectly. It was probably the most recognizable card in the deck. But it was also a loner, much like himself.

In a moment of self-pity he easily picked the six of spades from the deck in his hands and laid it next to the ace. The six of spades representing his six comrades, the ace representing himself. But why did he separate the two? Easy. He always felt like the odd-man out, the unwanted one in the little group. The men had learned to care a great deal for the gambler turned lawman, so why didn't he feel the same sort of gratitude? 'Because it the ones, closest to you that break your heart the most.' Like Eric LaContè. He had been a long time friend, but he betrayed him so easily. More that ever, Ezra felt alone. The others couldn't possibly understand. They would try of course, but they weren't Immortal, and they didn't have to live with the consequences everyday.

Ezra didn't know if he could handle this. . . this situation. He still had a hard time grasping the enormity of it. He wondered how the others were handling it. Josiah's words calmed him somewhat, but he still shivered at the idea of killing someone like that. Would he falter? More so, would he survive this Game long enough to see the unless possibilities for him?

His musing were interrupted by a soft whispering, then a growing harmonic sound assaulting his head. Ezra glanced furiously in every direction. 'So this is what a Buzz is. Wish it was of the liquor variety.' 

Vin and Melissa entered from the back door and greeted the gambler. The Buzz dissipated but Ezra still felt a soft whispering from the edges of his mind. It wasn't coming from Melissa, but from Vin. He frowned momentarily but plastered a smile on his face and greeted the two.

So what grandiose idea brings you two to my solitary musings?"

"Just a drink, Ez," Vin replied in his smooth Texan drawl. "And some company."

Ezra was about to reply when a large explosion could be heard from outside. The three looked at each other somewhat stunned then hurried outside to see flurry was about.

Mary Travis was busily working on typesetting on the printing press, humming to herself. She had noticed how each of the seven had been very edgy today and wondered what had caused all of them to be in such a state. Billy was in his room taking a nap, so she took the opportunity to get some work done. She moved over to the printing press, the soft patter of her feet creating squeaky noises in the floor. She paused for a moment when she thought she heard another pair of feet walking on the worn floor of the Clarion. It was quiet so she continued to work.

Then from outside, a loud explosion shook the small building. Mary was about to run out the door when a pair of hands covered her face with a cloth.

Mary realized the smell as chloroform and tried to fight her assailant. 

LaContè waited as the struggles of the woman in his arms lessened. When she finally succumbed to the drug, he carried her toward the back and placed her into the wagon he had stolen.

He took the wagon through the back way of Four Corners and took off into the growing night.

The seven rushed quickly to the site of the explosion. The Hardware Store was now in ruins and in flames, which quickly began to lick at the buildings surrounding it.

"Buck, JD, begin a bucket line!" Chris yelled as he rushed toward the scene. 

"I'll go and check if everyone is alright," Josiah said as began to run toward the wounded, Nathan not far behind.

From the corner of his eye, Chris saw Vin, Ezra, and Melissa running from the saloon. "Check to see if anyone is left in the buildings!" he yelled to the trio.

"You guys go," Melissa breathed, "I'll help those two," as she gestured to Josiah and Nathan who tended the wounded.

Both men nodded and entered the adjoining buildings, making sure everyone got out safely.

Chris joined the growing crowd of men fighting the blaze. After thirty minutes, everything was under control and the men breathed a sigh of relief.

Nathan approached the group and said, "Only some minor injuries. It's a good thing that no one was in there at the time of the explosion. 

The leader nodded his head in agreement. "Any idea how it happened?"

"Don't rightly know Chris," Buck replied. "Me and the Kid were sittin' in front of the jail. Then all hell broke loose."

"Accident?"

"Maybe," Nathan said. "We might never know, the place is pretty much destroyed."

The silence that accompanied Nathan's statement was interrupted as a little boy yelled for Chris's name. The group turned to see a crying Billy Travis running toward them.

The black clad gunslinger swept the young boy in his arms and asked what was wrong. Without a word Billy shoved a piece of paper and he took it and set Billy on the ground. With every passing second his anger kept growing.

Fearing the worst, Josiah asked, "What is it?" He flinched as Chris' cold-blooded gaze landed on him. Wordlessly he handed the note to the ex-preacher. 

Written in a simple script, "'Do for others just what you want them to do for you.' Luke 6:31. In one hour, Vender's Pass, under the oak. LaContè."

"You ain't goin' alone!" Vin yelled trying to talk some sense into the furious gunslinger. Chris had gone into the general store to buy more ammunition and had stated flatly that he was going to Vender's Pass by himself.

"He'll kill you," Josiah said softly, his voice a sharp contrast to Vin's.

Chris turned cold, calculating eyes to the men that surrounded him. He didn't want them to get involved. He had already lost a family due to the violence of his past, and now Mary, a person he deeply cared about, was in trouble because of him. 'All because of an act I committed so long ago,' he thought.

"This is my problem. . ." Chris began.

"No Chris. Haven't you gotten it through your thick skull yet?" Josiah exasperated. "To hell and back." Josiah paused for a moment, the emotion dancing in his eyes was clear as a bright summer day. "I meant every word."

Mr. Larabee. . . Chris," Ezra amended, "although I have no prior knowledge of the conversation here, I believe I am partially to blame for this. . . turn of unpleasant events."

Chris turned his eyes toward the gambler surprised at the use of his first name. Instead of the usual poker face that Ezra always kept, he could see the extent to which this situation affected him.

"I thought I knew him," Ezra continued, "but he is not the same man I knew all those years ago." He bit his tongue and bent his head down, trying to build up the courage to say what he was feeling. After all, it was his mother that had always taught him to hide his emotions and that it was part of his profession to not get emotionally involved. But he could not stay 

that way, not now. As much as he hated to admit it, he had changed drastically 

since meeting the six men that he now considered family.

"I am not the same man I was. If there was any retribution companionable to my past sins, then this journey shall me my penance. I am going with you," Ezra said, closing the book to anymore discussion. His mind was made up.

If someone would have told Chris a year ago that Ezra Standish would sacrifice himself for the sake of others, he would have laughed in their face. But that was then and this was now. Ezra, the man who ran out on them the first time, was offering his help. Not because he had to; it was because he wanted to. 'How can I argue anymore that Ezra doesn't care?' Chris asked himself as he took in the obvious mask of pain and guilt on the gambler's face. 

Chris grabbed a nearby railing as the realization of Ezra's new found allegiance made him weak. As he looked up to the expectant faces of his friends, he felt a sort of fatherly pride. Josiah was right. These men would ride through the gates of hell, not only for him, but for each other. 

He glanced across the street at Melissa, who was rocking a scared Billy Travis back and forth. The little boy had his head buried in her shoulder. Melissa wrapped her arms around him in a protective hug.

Feeling the gaze of the gunslinger on her, she lifted her head and offered a gentle smile. She could see the light dancing behind his green eyes. She was glad that he finally understood that the journey they were on was not to be taken alone.

The black-clad gunslinger ran his hand through his blond hair and regarded the six men. They were family. 'Where ever the road may take us.' Josiah's words echoed through his mind. "All right, let's head over to the livery and ride out."

The doors of the livery opened slowly as seven men on horseback came out. They trotted past the General Store, the Bank and offered ghostly smiles to the townspeople that greeted them. The riders stopped in front of Melissa's porch where she still cradled Billy in her arms.

"We'll be back," Chris said to her.

"Safe journey," she responded "to each and every one of you." She looked at Josiah and silently communicated to him to watch over them all.

Josiah understood her message and tipped his hat before moving off. The others followed the gesture before galloping away to Vender's Pass.

"They'll be back with Mama, right?" Billy asked, looking up at her with sad brown eyes. Those were the first words he had spoken since handing Chris the note.

"Yes they will, honey," Melissa said soothingly, brushing a tendril of hair from his tearstained face. "Yes they will."

Mary Travis slowly opened her eyes and found herself outside. 'What? How did I get here?' she though to herself. Mary blew at a piece of hair that tickled at her eye. It stayed firmly in place. Irritated, she moved her hand to tuck it behind her ear when she found she couldn't do it. In fact, she couldn't move at all; she was tied to a tree. Then the memories came flooding back; the smell of laudanum and the feel of strong hands grasping her.

A couple of feet in front of her was a camp set up. From the bushes strode LaContè, his movements graceful and confident.

"Ah, I see you're awake," LaContè said. "Here." He offered some water from his canteen, but Mary turned her head away from the offering.

LaContè smiled. "So be it. If you want to act that way, that's fine with me," and proceeded to pour half of the canteen's contents on her head.

She shook her head angrily, trying to get the water droplets off of her face. "I don't know what you want, but you are *not* going to get it from me."

"Oh, I already have what I want," LaContè replied. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "You're the bait for Larabee and when he comes," he withdrew his hand and made a sickening gesture of cutting off a head.

Mary cringed at the depth of evilness in his eyes. But she had to be strong. She knew that Chris would come, but hoped it would not be alone. 'Sometimes Chris has a stubborn streak a mile wide,' she thought. 'Please keep him and the others safe'. 

Off in the distance, seven men crested on a nearby hill. Vin took out his spy glass and focused his sights on their destination. He saw Mary tied up to a tree and clenched his jaw in anger. Vin watched as LaContè stepped up to her and grabbed her chin. It took a lot of restraint for him to keep his trigger finger off of his mare's leg.

"What is it?" Chris asked, seeing the anger dance behind Vin's sky blue eyes.

"Mary's tied to a tree," Vin replied and handed his spy glass over to Chris.

As Chris looked through it, he cursed an impressive string of expletives. JD tried to bite back a smile, given the seriousness of the situation. Instead, he asked what the plan was.

The area was peppered with trees and bushes, but the site LaContè had chosen was clear of such things. He noticed an outcropping of rocks above LaContè's location and spoke to his men. "Buck, JD, go head and get out to that cropping," he said, pointing to rock formation. "Josiah and Ezra, you two come from the right. Vin, Nathan, try to get close enough to free Mary."

"What about you?" Buck asked.

Chris smiled a dangerous smile, one of those that often made people cower. "I think I'll just walk on in."

"Are you crazy?!"

"Just a touch," Chris replied. "He's not going to kill me outright. LaContè wants me to suffer, remember? Now let's go!" He spurred his horse forward and the others looked at each other before following their fearless leader. 

"To hell and back." Josiah said as he spurred his horse forward. Ezra kept pace with him easily when Josiah broke the silence. "Ezra, there is something I need you to do."

The appointed time was near and LaContè eagerly awaited his prey. Once and for all he would have the pleasure of seeing Chris Larabee die a slow and painful death. "But not without him enduring some hell first," LaContè said aloud.

From the fringes of his mind, he felt it, the power of a latent immortal nearby. He smiled, and glanced over at Mary who was still tied to the tree. "The hour has come when fire and brimstone shall be cast upon the damned, and they shall feel eternal suffering at the hands of the Chosen Ones."

"Really?" a voice shouted from the forest. Chris Larabee calmly strode in the camp. "I'm not much for philosophical stuff. I pretty much leave that to others."

"Maybe you should," LaContè replied and tossed his cheroot on the ground. Instead of stomping it with his foot, the cheroot lit the trail of gunpowder that led to dynamite that was hidden behind Mary. She began to struggle furiously against the ropes but was helpless.

Chris didn't have time to contemplate the situation as LaContè tackled him to the ground and began to furiously land punches on Chris's unguarded torso. "This is for my family," he yelled as he punched Chris in the face. "My home, everything!"

Chris felt slightly daze from the punches that LaContè threw at him. Quickly, he blocked LaContè's fist with his left arm and threw the man over his head. As he moved to try to extinguish the fuse, a gunshot filled the air. "Damn!" Chris yelled as he grasped his right leg tightly and fell to the ground. When he looked up, he found LaContè aiming his gun at him.

"Sorry, it's not going to be that easy," and raised his hand to fire. His finger almost pressed the trigger when he felt the buzz of a much stronger Immortal nearby. His eyes blazed in anger. "I told you to come alone!" he said as he switched his aim to Mary.

"NOOO!" Chris yelled, turning to Mary as the crackling sound of a gunshot pierced the afternoon.

'No, please not Mary,' Chris thought to himself as he turned his head to the tree she was tied to. But the space was empty except for the ropes that once held her to the tree. He breathed out in relief; Vin had gotten to her in time. His main concern solved, Chris turned to his enemy to see that he was clutching his shooting arm with his left hand.

LaContè couldn't believe what was happened. One minute she was there, now she wasn't. He turned vicious eyes toward his adversary and moved to tackle him again, but the sword at his neck halted him from moving any further.

"I challenge you, Eric LaContè to the death," said a strong baritone voice.

"This is none of your business, Immortal," LaContè stated in a cold tone.

"It is when you threaten one of my friends," Josiah countered.

LaContè laughed a deep malevolent laugh. "So be it, old man," and took Josiah's legs out from underneath him. 

Chris could not move from his position on the ground. 'At least Mary is safe.' His musings was interrupted by a soft southern drawl.

"Chris, I believe the dirt is not the proper place to bleed on, so let's get you up," Ezra said as he put his left arm around Chris's waist and hauled him up. He brought Chris's right arm over his shoulder and helped his friend to walk. Ezra had already put the fuse out so he urged Chris toward a safer location.

"What about them?" Chris asked as he watched, with awe, as the two Immortals fought it out. He wanted a piece of LaContè, the man who hurt his family and his friends. But he felt too weak to grab his gun and shoot LaContè in the heart.

"Josiah told me that combat is done one on one," Ezra replied as he led Chris to the rock outcropping that the others were converging at. "We can't interfere."

"Never?"

Ezra shook his head no.

"Too bad," Chris said. "I really want to rip the bastard's head off."

"I'm sure Josiah will do it for you," Ezra replied ruefully and led Chris to the rest of their friends.

::Swoosh::

::clang::

The sounds of a battle drifted up from below to the people waiting on the rock cropping. Nathan had tended to Mary's cuts on her wrist and they watched with awe as the two men fought. Both men had a quickness in their step. Nathan was impressed with his oldest friend's knowledge of a sword.

"Didn't know that Josiah could move like that," Buck said with admiration. He watched as Josiah easily ducked a blow that would have severed his head from his body. Buck knew if that was him down there, he would have been dead already.

JD gaped openly with wonder as the two men continued to trade blows with each 

other. He held his breath as Josiah's sword weaved an intricate path of thrusts and blows to try to disarm his opponent. He had seen sword fights back east, when the master of the house would practice. But that was restricted to one school of fighting where the swordsmen's abilities depending on how much training they had. But this fight it was a mixture of 

different techniques, one's he could not identify.

Vin observed the each movement of the sword and had to admire Josiah as he did. 'To do worry about this every day of his live can't be easy. I'm glad I am not one of them,' he thought.

Mary wished she had her book with her. 'To be thinking about that during a time like this.' Her attentive eyes caught every detail of the fight and she would write it down later. She caught movement from behind her and was glad to see Chris and Ezra. She picked up her skirts and ran toward them, engulfing Chris in a hug. "I'm glad you're safe."

Chris managed to raise his hand and touched her face. "So am I." There was more he wanted to say, but not with the others around them. Ezra set Chris on a log and Nathan examined the wound.

"The bullet went clean through," Nathan said as he poured some alcohol on to clean the wound. "You're just gonna have to take it easy for the next few days."

"Thanks Nate," Chris replied. He was too tired to argue. Chris turned just in time to see the cringe on the young sheriff's face. "What is it JD?"

"Someone's missing a head," Vin answered for him.

Ezra peeked over the edge and saw Josiah stand victorious over the body of a one time friend. His heart sadden to see the man he once knew like the back of his hand turn out to be a cold blooded killer. "I believe it would be prudent if we went for some cover." Josiah had explained the Quickening in more detail while the two had gotten into position.

"Why?" JD asked.

"Because of that," Ezra said as he pointed to the growing white mist that surrounded LaContè's body. Suddenly, lightening emanated from the prone form and overwhelmed the area. It started to crawl across the ground and up the rocks.

"Holy....." JD exclaimed as he scrambled from his sitting position. "Come on Buck!"

The group ran for cover and watched as lightening streaked across the sky. They could hear Josiah's screams echoing from below. Nathan wanted to go down there, but he knew if he was struck by lightening, he may not survive. 

After a few minutes had passed, the lightening storm ceased. Vin carefully peeked over the edge of the cliff. He saw Josiah kneeling on the ground, his hands clutching his sword tightly. "He's all right!" Vin yelled to the rest of the group.

Chris breathed out a sigh of relief. It was all over. "Let's get home."

Night had fallen on Four Corners. Most of the businesses were closed already, but the light in the saloon was still on. Inside, seven men were celebrating their blessings that each one of them made it home and were still alive. Earlier, as the group approached Melissa's house, an overjoyed Billy bounced down the steps and threw himself in his mother's waiting arms. 

Chris had accompanied them back home even though Nathan kept harassing him that he needed to stay off of his leg. Now, the seven men were enjoying each other's company.

"I still don't get why," JD said during the course of the poker game. He threw down his cards, knowing he didn't have much of a hand. He had already lost most of what little money he had to Ezra.

"What don't ya get JD?" Josiah asked as he indicated to Ezra that he wanted two cards.

"Why fight?" JD asked and leaned back in his chair. "What's this prize that you keep talkin' about?"

"Why does the sun set and the moon rise?" A female voice replied. They turned to see Melissa standing by the back door. She walked into the saloon and pulled up a chair. "Why do bad things happen to good people?" Buck pushed a drink toward her, but she waved her hand no. "Why is Buck obsessed with married women?" she said mischievously.

"Hey!" Buck yelled as the rest of the group laughed at the truthful statement. When the commotion died down, Melissa picked up on her narrative. "Fact is, it's the way we live our lives and we have to accept it." She turned to the newest Immortal in the group. "Just like you have to."

Ezra gulped some whisky and placed the shot glass on the table. He wondered if he would have the gumption to fight with the passion and agility Josiah had. It had truly shown in his fighting style that this Game was something he believed in. Not only to save his life, but to 

prevent the unscrupulous Immortals from inflicting harm to innocent people.

He poured himself another drink and held it in the air. "To Immortality. That we may keep our heads," Ezra intoned. 

There was a chorus of 'here, here,' and the ting of glasses hitting each other. Chris Larabee gulped his drink in one easy motion and took a moment to contemplate how lucky he was to find this family. One road had ended; the road of hell and destruction he felt at the loss of his family and another road began; the journey of seven men, standing by each other.

"I'm going to bed." Chris announced after a few more hands. He bid a goodnight to the men and Melissa. His leg itched like hell and there was nothing more he wanted than sleep. Soon everyone followed suit until it was only Josiah, Ezra, and Melissa left in the saloon. The three of them continued to play poker with the pot either going to Ezra or Melissa, depending on how much effort the two of them put into play.

During this time, there was one detail that kept nagging the dapper gambler. Josiah saw the look cross his face several times.

"The sensation I get when one of us is near is called The Buzz correct?" Ezra began.

"Right. . ." Josiah said. He had a feeling where this was leading to.

"Now, your two signatures are very distinctive, and very strong I might add," Ezra said, "but sometimes I get this strange, low Buzz when the others are around." He looked at Melissa who looked a little pale. "It happened when Vin walked in earlier this afternoon with you and again as each of them entered tonight."

Josiah and Melissa traded glances. The ex-preacher nodded his head, indicating to Melissa that she should be the one to tell him.

"Sometimes an Immortal can sense the people who are pre-immortals, or what I call latent Immortals. It helps us to keep track of those who will become Immortal and to try begin their teaching early," Melissa explained.

"So you knew I was going to be Immortal?" Ezra asked Josiah.

"Yep. I knew the moment we met."

Ezra had to digested this. 'So they knew I was going to be Immortal. Wait a minute, if latent Immortality can be felt by an Immortal, and I can feel a low Buzz coming from the rest of seven. . .' Realization hit him. "The others will be Immortal."

"That's right Ezra," Melissa said. "One day, their mortal lives will come to an end, and Immortality will give them a rebirth. But they will be thrusted into the same world that we live in, fighting for their lives in what we call The Game."

Ezra traded glances with both of them and picked up the bottle in the middle of the table. "I need a drink."

Epilogue

Four Corners, Arizona 1876

The Lilandra Chronicles

It now seems clear that the reason why Melissa Kyle came to Four Corners has now come to light. Ezra Standish is now an Immortal. He was killed when a friend from his past attempted to kill Chris Larabee. I have also discovered that LaContè is the one behind the murders of Sarah and Adam Larabee, Chris' former wife and son. It seems now the Chris can finally put the demons to rest.

Eric LaContè is dead, by the hands of Josiah Sanchez, a long time friend of Melissa Kyle. The battle was quite short, most likely due to the fact that LaContè is only 40 years old compared to Josiah's 1,800 years experience. It seems that Josiah and Melissa will trade off on training the new Immortal.

Mary Travis finished her journal entry for the night and locked it in her desk. She went to her room in the back, but not before checking up on her son. She smiled as she saw him sleeping soundly with the horse Chris carved for him. She knew it would be a good idea to start working on The Standish Chronicle, but tomorrow would come soon enough. She climbed into bed and extinguished the lamp beside her bed, plunging the room into darkness.

Finis


End file.
